Little Red's Fairy Tales: Book 2
by Apple and Kiwi
Summary: SLASH Red's adventures in the land of fairy tales continues as he is pitted against Fruity Faes, Damsels in Distress and personal matters he'd rather pretend didn't exist. :coughcough:Wolf:coughcough:
1. Bred For One Purpose

**CHAPTER 1**

Bred For One Purpose

_**Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a king and queen who had no child to grace the hallowed halls of their castle.**_

_**One day, on a chilly and snowy morning, the queen went on a stroll through the castle grounds to clear her mind of unhappy thoughts. It was near the very edge of the grounds where she found a small patch of green next to an ebony tree. On the little patch grew a most beautiful red rose which stole the queen's breath away at the sight of it.**_

_**The queen bent down to pluck the rose from the earth, but pulled her hand away abruptly—as if bitten. Her fingers had been pricked by thorns! And from the tiny wounds feel two drops of blood onto the snowy ground at her feet. She stared at the spots of crimson on the snow near the ebony tree in a sort of trance, totally transfixed by how the colors seemed to compliment one another.**_

_**It was then and there that she decided that she would have a child no matter what the cost. But not just any child—the perfect little girl!**_

_**The queen became obsessed with having a daughter with 'locks of ebony wood, skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood' that she stopped at nothing to attain her goal. She poured over old magical tomes well into the night, burning the midnight oil in the hopes of conceiving such a child. She constantly consulted with those of the dark so she could gain the knowledge of dark witchcraft.**_

_**The king became very worried about his wife. As the days went on and turned into weeks and the weeks stretched into months, the beautiful woman of whom he had fallen in love with was transforming into a fiendish, twisted and cruel individual. Servants, maids, retainers, peasants—all were disappearing left and right only to reappear on the queen's whim dead…or changed.**_

_**Several of those who had disappeared came back monsters, deformed…or with child that turned out to be some sort of terrible grotesqueness, bemoaning the name of the queen who had done such horrible things to them. It was a truly terrible time in the kingdom.**_

**_Experiment after experiment, the queen continued to research ways of begetting the perfect child until, one fateful day, she was finally found to be pregnant the day after her husband rode off to make peace with a neighboring country. At the same time the people of the kingdom were beginning to rally in an effort to rid themselves of the evil queen. It was the perfect time to strike as the witch was vulnerable in her pregnant state and the king wouldn't know of their treason until it was too late._**

**_United as one, they stormed the castle, easily overtaking the soldiers left behind to defend its walls with sheer numbers. They fought their way to the throne room where they thought the queen was surely to be at that point in time. But there, lying serenely on the seat of the throne was not the evil witch queen, but a baby girl wrapped in a white blanket soaked in her mother's blood._**

_**The queen had died from trying to birth the child on her own. Unable to bring her long awaited daughter through traditional means, the queen took a knife to her stomach and opened herself up, pushing the child out through there. In her final moments as she laid her daughter down upon her throne, she wrote the name of her child on the floor with the blood on her hands before falling dead. The name was two words that shall be remembered forevermore.**_

_**SNOW WHITE**_

_**The one they had come to kill had died by her own twisted devices, leaving behind the fruits of her evil labors. Many wished to do away with the child for they thought nothing good could come from the spawn of an evil witch. Snow White had to die.**_

_**Just as one of the men (a hunter who lost two daughters and his wife) was about to deal the fatal blow the king strode into the room with his soldiers at his back. Upon seeing the bloody scene he waited for no explanations as he ordered his guards to arrest all assembled and to charge them with treason against the crown. The order was carried out swiftly and many were summarily executed the very same day in a place which was to be called the 'Blessed Garden' in days to come.**_

_**The king was at a loss. An uprising had transpired while he had been away and his wife had died, leaving behind a small child for him to care for. What was he to do?**_

_**As all kings do in such misery: move on.**_

**_Many years passed since the sudden death of the queen. Snow White had grown into a lovely little girl, despite the circumstances of her birth as well as the gossip surrounding said circumstances. Though she carried a heavy stigma, Snow White was a delightful child beloved by all who knew her—especially her father who had learned to depend on her presence to stave off the loneliness that came with her mother's death. And he had loved her, no matter how evil and wicked she became._**

_**But he could only do so much for his daughter. He was still a king and kings rarely had time for children and their upbringing. Alas, he couldn't just leave Snow White all alone—it wasn't an option. She was all that he had, after all. She was all that the kingdom had. As its sole heir, whoever married her would be the next ruler of the Kingdom of Saison.**_

_**Nurse maids and servants did not seem very adequate enough in his mind to raise his daughter, so he took it upon himself to find his beloved Snow White a mother who would dote upon her in his place. He sent messengers to all the corners of the world in hopes of finding the perfect mother for his daughter.**_

_**In the end, the king settled on a countess whose beauty could be surpassed by no other and whose heart was bright and full. When he married her she brought nothing to her new home, except for an enchanted mirror that knew all and could only speak the truth.**_

_**There had never been a more caring and loving mother than the king's new wife. The queen came to love Snow White as if she were her own flesh and blood. Snow White, in turn, as very fond of her stepmother and wanted nothing more than to please her. Time quickly passed and mother and daughter became the best of friends.**_

_**Tragedy struck once again, however, as the king became ill then passed away after a month of sickness. As sad as this was it only served to strengthen the bond between Snow White and her stepmother who became the sole ruling power within Saison. Although, this made spending time with her stepdaughter very hard on the queen who would love nothing more than to stay by her side and console and comfort her in the days after the king's funeral.**_

_**One day, on a whim, she asked the mirror a strange question. She wanted to know who was the fairest in the land. And the mirror, being only able to speak the truth, told her that she was the fairest of them all, which pleased the queen greatly. The day after, she asked the same question and received the same answer and so it was the next day when she went to inquire it again. It soon came to be a daily routine to ask the mirror this question at mid day.**_

**_It had been a day just like any other when the mirror spoke a different answer when the queen came after lunch to ask her question. It said that the queen was indeed very fair and beautiful—unlike any other—however, now that Snow White was grown-up she was much more beautiful than the queen could ever hope to be._**

**_The queen was left stunned by this revelation. But she did not grow angry or spiteful and jealous. In fact, she grew to be very remorseful. She came to realize that she had neglected any attention to her stepdaughter and that she had grown into a fine young woman without her noticing. She decided to make it up to Snow White by going out to get a gift for the child—a bouquet of flowers; a rarity in their often snow covered kingdom._**

_**The queen stole out of the castle proper and traveled by horseback to the Blessed Garden where flowers of varying sizes and colors all grew in abundance. Once there, she set about arranging the perfect apology bouquet for Snow White. She thought that she had to find the most fragrant and lovely of the growing flora back for the child—beautiful blooms fitting of one so fair. It was only right, in her mind. She soon spotted one of the most beautiful flowers sitting peacefully in the middle of a grove of apple trees. A rose in full bloom; ready for the picking.**_

_**She reached out to take the rose, but pricked a finger on a sharp thorn. Slightly hurt, but nowhere near discouraged in the least, she roughly took the flower by the roots. Blood came out from little cuts on her fingers, but she paid them no mind. She had overcome the task of picking the delicate rose. Triumphantly, she returned to the castle with her precious treasure, but, in the end, did not give it to Snow White. She kept it for herself, hiding it away between the pages of a very thick book.**_

_**In the days to come the queen suddenly became very obsessed with herself. Her tradition of asking the mirror who was 'fairest of them all' became a frequent occurrence during the day to the point where she locked her doors and stayed several hours alone in her room. Over and over did she demand answers from the mirror, never satisfied with what it always told her in spoken rhyme. Everyone suffered from this terrible behavior, but none more so than Snow White.**_

_**When the queen could no longer take the same news of Snow White being fairer than she, the woman called upon her huntsman and ordered him to take the princess far into the borders of their kingdom and to kill her. And to make sure that he did the deed, she made him swear to cut out Snow White's heart and bring it back to her.**_

**_The huntsman could not do such an evil deed to such an innocent child. So when he brought her to a forest at the very edge of Saison's borders, he told her to run away and to never return lest the wrath of the queen descend upon her. Snow White, confused and scared, ran for her life—far into the woods where no one would find her for the time being. Meanwhile, the huntsman killed a boar and took its heart to the queen who devoured it like some wild animal feasting upon the flesh of its enemies…_**

"…thinking that she could absorb her youthful beauty as an animal absorbs another's strength…" Kiwi shut the book and stared at her counterpart who was busily writing on a piece of parchment. "Dear, Disney you are not. This…this is…utterly horrible!" she said, gesturing at the pages of parchment she had just read. "Creepy even…"

Apple smiled sadly as she looked at the paragraph she was currently nursing into being. She idly tapped the paper with the tip of her quill, getting ink spots all over the place. "…The truth usually is, my angel. The truth usually is…" The demon stretched in her seat, looking like a cat waking up from a nap. "Horrible, that is. Creepy is just a byproduct of horrible circumstances."

Kiwi sighed and looked at the papers again, shuffling them around in her hands. "I suppose so."

The Demonic Overpower of Irony leaned over and kissed her angel's forehead, assuring her that things will turn out for the best. "Don't worry, angel. _This_ story doesn't have an ending yet." She stood up from her desk, taking the Angelic Overpower's hand and leading her over to the parlor table where specially prepared rice balls and soy sauce awaited them next to a pot of tea and a two liter bottle of cream soda. "In fact…it's only _just_ beginning…"

"Apple…"

The demon raised an eyebrow at the angel. "Hm?"

The angel hesitated. "Will it really be alright?"

Apple grinned. "Would I be lying if I said, 'I don't know'?"

The demon earned a rice ball to the face for that one.

And both Ironic Overpowers ate as they began the task of watching the goings-on in the world beneath them, chatting amiably on whatever topic decided to pop up between them. And Kiwi forgot her worries for the while and Apple completely neglected to finish writing the tale of Snow White as far more important things were beginning to unfold…

…**and the old woman transformed into the wicked queen as she watched in undisguised glee as Snow White choked on the apple and died.**


	2. It Begins Again

**CHAPTER 2**

It Begins Again

Clouds were covering up the sky in a blanket of white and dove gray. Snowflakes fell softly to the ground; the first snow of the season. Most of the trees within the Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits had lost all of their leaves, their branches now bare. Some still had tufts of yellow, orange and red, while other stayed evergreen as they were to be all year round.

It was a chilly November morning that had Red Reaper (or Inlaw, or Muffet—depending on who was talking about whom and if they weren't high on potion fumes) making a sale to one of the few customers who dared to venture into his forest home/bakery. Then again, the adorable elf in front of him was so sweet he could put _pure sugar_ to shame, so it really came as no surprise. The moment he'd walked in the door the baker had found himself in the middle of a slightly damp, yet very enthusiastic hug.

"It's a long way from Abel, Prince Azrael." Red commented, wrapping up the elf's order in a little white box. He snipped the string and tied it neatly around the box, then handed it over to the patiently waiting elf who was smiling so cutely Red couldn't hold in the squeal at the sight of him. One would think that knowing this particular elf since childhood would have helped him cope with the sight of a smiling elf, but _no_. He was still rather overwhelmed whenever he saw one.

"Oh, please, my friend. Don't call me that. It makes me sound so important!" Azrael said as he paid the baker. He gingerly took the box into his hands, holding it almost reverently. The elf was notorious for his sweet tooth and it could be considered to be one of his few weaknesses. "And yes, Abel is far from here…but I needed to see how my friend was doing. I should think that it's been a while…for _my friend_, at least." As an elf, Azrael had a lot of spare time on his hands and things like years were probably days (or less) to him.

Red smiled a little sadly, his eyes unfocused as he remembered some distant, far off memory. "Oh, yes. It has been a while, hasn't it?" He shook his head and tried to concentrate on the elf's patient, kind expression (which really wasn't all that hard since he was no slouch when it came to looks—even for an elf!). "Hey, speaking of which…have you seen Raddy about?" Azrael tilted his head, brown hair falling into his blue-gray eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, Radamanthus the Brown?" he asked. Red nodded. Azrael bowed his head and then shook it in negative. "My apologies, my friend. I haven't seen Radamanthus since he last visited the Lady White's coffin the summer of yesteryear." The baker's shoulders slumped as he sighed, disappointed.

"I see."

Azrael bowed his head once again. "My sincerest apologies, my dear friend. I did not mean to cause you any grief." The elf moved to leave the shop, but stopped at the sight of Red looking rather disheartened. Smiling gently, he laid the box of chocolate chip cookies on the counter and put a hand on the shorter male's head. Looking directly into Red's brown eyes he inquired, "Why the sudden interest with Radamanthus of Wicked?"

Red looked away, but allowed the hand on top of his head to remain where it was. He honestly didn't know what to say. What _was_ he supposed to say? Was he supposed to say, because of something terrible he had done on behalf of the Wicked Fairy (and, technically, his godmother, Death, as well), who was a national enemy to all elves of Abel, and then of something else that had to happen within the same kingdom he was inevitably reminded of things he'd rather not try to remember? Was he supposed to admit something awful to someone who wouldn't so as much as flick a house fly with a wave of his hand?

The baker just sighed.

"No reason." He said. "I just miss him, is all."

Azrael raised an eyebrow at him. "…Huh. I see." The elf sounded a little disappointed that the young man wouldn't confide in him, but took it in stride. Smiling a bright smile he gently ruffled Red's hair before once again taking up his precious cookies. "Well, come visit Abel some time. It's prettiest this time of year…maybe we could even celebrate your birthday at last." Red smiled thinly, and said nothing. "Farewell, my friend. Until the day we meet again." With that, the elf prince was off.

Red heaved another sigh and looked to the side, staring at a small figure sitting quietly on a shelf. Going over to the shelf he went on his toes and took the Wolf doll into his hands.

It had been months since he'd last laid eyes on his silver-haired antagonist, and in those long weeks, he'd had a lot of time to think. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, he carefully held the doll in both hands and stared at it, rubbing its little leather-clad torso absently with his thumb.

He was no longer angry at Wolf for tricking him at the masque; rather, he was actually a bit more angry with himself. He was such a cynical, well-traveled person, how could he have been so easily fooled by Wolf's simple disguise? And it wasn't the first time it had happened, either. The first time Wolf had tricked him, he'd been dressed as Red's grandmother. His _grandmother_. And Red had been fooled...up until the point where the other man had embraced him and passionately kissed him on the lips.

Red brushed a finger over the doll's face where its lips would be, had the creator of the small effigy thought to give it some. Even though he'd been incredibly upset at the time, looking back on it now over ten years later, he was beginning to think that he'd probably over-reacted a bit.

And then there was that incident in the forest, only mere months ago, when he'd woken up to a kiss from the same man. He flushed in irritation at himself when he remembered how badly he had reacted then, especially considering the circumstances under which Wolf had been kissing him. The man had been trying to wake him up from a cursed sleep, which was a lot less worrisome than what the Wicked Fairy had been trying to do to him before that.

And they'd kissed again at the masquerade, only this time, Red had willingly participated. He blushed a little, remembering how eagerly he had responded to Wolf's tentative, even endearing advances.

Remembering the evening, and more specifically how charming Wolf had been, Red squirmed a little in his seat, trying to make heads or tales of the man's behavior. What was he, really? Was he truly the horny pervert Red had first thought he was ten years ago, or was there more to him than that? If he was simply after a roll in the hay, then anyone would do, and he wouldn't continue to hound Red with his presence...would he?

Red propped his elbow on his knee, cupped his chin in his palm, and stared into the little plush's amber button eyes. Wolf had been so charming and..._normal_ at the masque, and he couldn't help but remember how _safe_ he'd felt when the man had awoken him with a kiss in Tempus Forest... And then there was all the other small, unlooked for favors he'd done for Red over the years, which the baker had simply brushed aside without a word of thanks…

Was it too late to change things? He wondered, flopping back in his chair and carelessly tossing the doll onto the table. The plush landed with a soft thump and slumped in an unnatural position, face-down. Red stared at it for a moment, then reached out and straightened it apologetically, rolling his eyes at himself as he did so. He sure was being a lot nicer to the little plush than he had ever been to the man it resembled.

All thoughts of Wolf were driven from his mind a moment later when he realized the pie he had left in his oven was burning.

Rats. His strawberry pie was ruined. The Queen of Hearts was not going to be pleased that he had messed up an order _again_. Bad enough that he'd done it once and ended up being humiliated in front of the entire Wonderland court with false news of pregnancy, but for it to happen a second time? Red gave an aggravated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He supposed the only thing he could do was to start over and hope that the dear Queen would forgive him right after having a taste of the sweet confection.

Just as he was getting his hands caked in a mixture for the pie crust, he heard the little bell on his door ring, signaling to him that a customer had arrived. He tried to clean up his hands quickly, but was saved the trouble when his godmother, the incredibly imposing (for those who did not know her) Death, walked into the kitchen. He greeted her politely as he set back to work, asking her what the sudden visit was all about. It had been quite a few months since the last time he had spoken to her, after all.

DOES A GODMOTHER NEED A REASON TO VISIT HER ONE AND ONLY GODSON?

Red froze. Whenever she used that line it always meant...

Brown eyes gazed levelly at Death.

"What is it this time?" he asked.

Death hesitated for a moment, and it looked as though she was going to try to placate him, but instead she shrugged and simply began to tell him what she'd come to say.

THERE IS A YOUNG MILLER GIRL LIVING IN MAPLE TOWN, she began, WHO IS NOT SCHEDULED TO DIE FOR ANOTHER 78.32224 YEARS. IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT HER LIFE HAS RECENTLY BECOME FOREFIT, AND SHE IS NOW SCHEDULED TO DIE IN THREE DAYS. I NEED YOU TO FIND OUT WHAT IS GOING ON, AND, IF YOU CAN, FIX IT.

Red blinked, then stared at his godmother inquisitively. "Is that all?" he asked, somewhat surprised. Usually his chore list was somewhat longer than that, especially if Death had not asked for his help in months, as was the case now.

THAT IS INDEED ALL, Death said, her voice wry with amusement. IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU LEFT RIGHT AWAY, THOUGH, AS IT IS QUITE A WALK AND YOU DON'T HAVE A LOT OF TIME.

"Yes, yes, just as soon as I finish this pie. The Queen of Hearts will have my head if I mess up another order," Red said, waving one flour-covered hand at his pie-crust.

------------------

Maple Town was on the other side of the Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits. So it was with great annoyance that Red made his delivery to Wonderland, backtracked all the way to the forest and hopped, skipped and pirouetted his way out west. In the last ten years he had rarely ever ventured out in the western lands, but he knew it was easy enough to walk along the main road, which would eventually get him to the quaint little town near a lake inhabited by a sprite. From what he remembered, the town was controlled by a Count from the northern Winter Plains. And still was by the look of things...

...Not that it mattered to him, of course. He was supposed to check on a young miller girl, not the count of the realm. All he had to do was find out where she lived and figure out why her life expectancy had suddenly become practically nothing. This would probably be much easier than the whole Tempus debacle. If he was lucky, he might even be able to go home to his own bed this evening!

The weather was crisp and clear, though the wind carried with it a chilly bite; the promise of approaching Winter. Red was in a fairly good mood, all things considered. He was just wondering what he felt like eating for dinner this evening when he got home when a rustle in the underbrush along the road caught his attention. He paused in his brisk walk, curious. He experienced a brief flash of hope that the originator of the noise might be Wolf, and just as quickly crushed it in irritation. What the hell was wrong with him?

The creature that emerged from the brush wasn't Wolf, though it did resemble the irritating man's namesake somewhat. It was a dog, fluffy and wolf-ish looking, only about half-grown if its gawky, almost awkward gait and its huge puppy paws were anything to tell by. It stared at him with adorable blue eyes, smiling a puppy smile.

"Aww..." Red couldn't help but be charmed by the young creature, and knelt down and stretched out his hand for the dog to smell. The dog took a few steps toward him and extended its nose, sniffing cautiously. Just as Red moved to pet it, though, it growled and bit his hand.

"Sonnova--!" Red exclaimed, yanking his hand back and falling backwards in surprise. His basket was dislodged by his abrupt tumble, and the dog snapped it up in its jaws and ran off down the road a way, before turning and diving back into the underbrush.

Red gaped after the animal for a moment, before gathering his wits and clambering to his feet in pursuit.

"Thief!" he shouted after the dog as he left the road and dived into the underbrush after it. "Come back here with that!"

Red chased after the dog for some time, somewhat surprised that it stayed in sight the entire time. It was almost as if the little bugger _wanted_ him to chase it...

All the same, the nasty little thing kept zigging and zagging, making the abused baker work in order to retrieve his basket. But he was gaining on him, _oh_, was he gaining. And when he caught up with the little mutt he was going to make him sorry he ever crossed paths with Red Reaper! The man leapt forward to grab hold of the dog, but it easily slipped through his grasp, escaping into some bushes. Growling in a manner befitting an angry chihuahua, Red dove in after the little rascal in the hopes of catching him.

"I've got you now!" he declared prematurely, emerging into the other side of the bushes and onto the stately grounds of a fortress-like mansion. Red barely registered the three stories, unwelcoming atmosphere, and covered windows, so intent was he on keeping track of the culprit who had taken his basket. It was one thing to have it stolen by brigand in tights, it was quite another to have it taken from him by a stupid animal. Said animal was waiting rather patiently, his silvery tail wagging back and forth as he stood obediently next to a little basement window. Red's basket was lying haphazardly on the ground next to the pup, who continued looking very happy with himself.

Red was not amused.

Stomping forward, he snatched the basket from the ground and was just about to begin giving the dog what for when he heard an almost haunting, yet timid voice call from behind the little window, which he now saw was protected with several heavy-looking bars. He almost jumped a mile high, thinking some sort of malicious ghost from his past was out to get him. But, after some careful reflection (and twenty-two and a quarter deeps breaths), he found out that the one who called him was simply a very creepy- (though, admittedly beautiful) looking girl with drenched (or perhaps, just greasy) black hair, staring out at him through the bars of her window. For the moment, he forgot all his anger towards the wolf-dog and his attention was shifted to this strange girl who was locked up.

"Oh, Wulf...it seems...that you've found someone...to help me, yes...?" she asked slowly, making pauses whenever she spoke, as if thinking carefully about what she said next. She looked to the husky expectantly and the dog barked in an affirmative. The girl nodded languidly. "...I...see..."

Red stared at the girl. What was it with him and meeting complete nut jobs? Well, he supposed she wasn't as nutty as most (compared to the likes of the Montblanc sisters and the Wicked Fairy, she was the most normal person in the entire world), but her speech and looks made his skin crawl all the same. He made to back away, but the bizarre girl behind the bars laid her eyes upon him.

"Please, miss...help me..."

"Um...what seems to be the problem?" Red heard himself asking. Mentally, he was kicking himself--he didn't have the time to help random girls, he had to find the miller's daughter and help _her_.

"Well..." the girl began, leaning as close to Red as the bars on her window would allow. "My father thought...hmm, that it would be a good idea? A good idea...to spread rumors about my...spinning skills."

Red blinked, slightly unsure of what to make of this. "Um...?"

The girl very deliberately tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and blinked once, very slowly, before continuing. "My father...took it into his head to...claim...that I could...spin straw into gold," she said at last.

"Oh..." Red still wasn't sure what to make of this. He really wanted to turn around and go back to the road and back to his chores, but the girl's large, dark eyes seemed to hold him in place. "Why did he say that?"

She seemed to shrug. "He was drunk...I think. Anyway, the Count heard my father's...boastful comments and...brought me...here. I am to spin all this straw…into gold." She gestured behind her vaguely, and Red moved a few steps closer. Peering into the candle-lit basement, he could make out several large piles of straw and a spinning wheel. He suppressed a shudder at the sight of the apparatus, and returned his attention to the girl.

"But you can't spin straw into gold...can you?" Red asked. He was fairly certain that only a Fairy would be able to perform that particular trickery, and this girl, while a tad on the creepy side, was quite clearly no Fae.

"Of course not," the girl responded.

"So why don't you just tell the Count that there's been a misunderstanding, and clear this whole mess up?"

The girl blinked at him. "That is not possible," she told him, losing a bit of her vague mannerisms and sounding slightly more normal. "The Count...has decreed...that I spin all this straw into gold...by daybreak tomorrow, or he will have my life."

Red blinked several times before he could think of a response to that statement. "He's going to kill you if you don't spin that straw into gold?" he asked incredulously.

The girl's eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression remained otherwise passive. "That's what I just said, isn't it?" she asked, a smidge of irritation creeping into her voice.

"Sorry, sorry," Red apologized. "I was just...surprised. Um," he paused as a thought occurred to him. "Your father...he wouldn't happen to be the Miller, would he?"

"Yes. I am the Miller's daughter...my name is Hannah. Who are you?"

Oh, boy. How was he going to answer that one? Sure, he could give the regular introduction of his name, but then...what was he supposed to say after that? Then again, she did ask him to help her, so he probably wouldn't need to mention his connection to the Higher Powers. On the other hand, slightly off as she was, he was pretty damn sure she'd be very contrary (like so many people he often had the displeasure of meeting during the running of his chores) and ask him why he was helping her.

So, instead of answering her right away, he pointed to the straw behind over. "Did you try to spin the straw into gold?" he asked. She gave him a rather insulted look.

"...No..." she answered after a few moments of staring at Red. "...all I did today...was make...straw dolls..."

Red blinked. "Straw dolls?" She nodded.

"Yes..." She moved away from the window and crossed the basement room to pick up a bundle of straw fashioned into an effigy of a human being. She brought it over for the baker to examine, which made his opinion of her go from 'simply creepy' to 'never with a ten foot pole'. Considering he knew better when it came to the world he lived in, he swore he was staring at a voodoo doll. "I am very adept...at making dolls...out of straw...and such…" she told him. As an after thought, she added, "...What...did...you...say your name...was...?"

The manner in which she asked such a simple, common question suggested to Red that, were he smart, he'd either make something up or not respond at all. However, Hannah was watching him intently, and under her eerily calm gaze, he found he couldn't help but respond with the absolute truth.

"I'm Red," he said, even though every instinct he possessed screamed at him not to.

"Red...?" She tilted her head and continued to regard him. "That's...a pretty name. Now, then, Red...I realize that this might be a...futile request, but do you think...you might be able...to help me?"

Red had the vague impression of frozen claws catching hold in his very soul, but forced himself to shrug off the sensation and concentrate on the task at hand. This was obviously the Miller's daughter his godmother had told him to help, and so he was committed to doing it whether he liked it or not. The fact that he didn't like it at all was completely irrelevant.

"I'll do my best, but I'm not sure how--"

He was cut off mid sentence when the mangy dog (what had Hannah called it? Wulf?) began barking loudly at someone or something moving about in the forest. Red turned around to see what was the matter, and had to suppress a groan of disbelief.

Out of a shower of bright orange sparkles a blind man could have seen two hundred miles away, at night, in a storm, underneath the earth, blindfolded and standing behind a five hundred pound woman and white, puffy smoke came a male fairy of surprising good looks (even for a Fae--especially one dressed in flamboyantly loud orange as he was) that Wulf continued to bark angrily at. The fairy stretched languidly, flapping his butterfly wings a few times as he regarded them all with topaz eyes. A slow grin began to make itself known on his Fae face as he practically hopped and skipped towards them from the edge of the forest.

"What's this I hear? Trouble a brewing?" he asked, rather quick compared to Hannah's slow, careful speech. In fact, he spoke so fast that the last couple of words were strung together in a slur and it was amazing to Red that he'd even managed to understand the gist of what the Fae had asked.

Either way, Red still went, "Huh?"

The Fae smiled even wider than he had been previously and sashayed closer to the cloaked man.

"I said, is there trouble a brewing?" he repeated, leaning close to the disgruntled baker. Red took a step back and nearly tripped over Wulf, who had come up behind him so as to snarl more effectively at the newcomer. The dog ignored him in favor of raising his hackles threateningly at the Fae, who merely smiled pleasantly down at the growling animal before returning his attention to Red, who glared back.

"Nothing we can't handle on our own," he said coldly, lying through his teeth. Damned if he was going to ask an obnoxious Fae for help, especially one as full of himself as this particular specimen seemed to be.

"So I take it that you _don't_ need any help with, oh, say, spinning a pile of straw into a pile of gold?" he asked, pouting a little, and turning his attention to Hannah, possibly in the hopes that she might be more receptive to his presence than Red and the dog.

"Oh...can you...do that?" Hannah asked, curiosity piqued.

"I can indeed!" the Fae boasted. "It is but a trifle, a past-time I learned at my mother's knee. Would you like my assistance?" he asked, sweeping a very grand bow to the maiden beyond the bars.

"If you would...be so kind," Hannah responded, despite the beginnings of a spluttering sort of protest from Red, and also despite Wulf's continued growling.

"I'm only too happy to, my dear!" the orange fairy proclaimed. "But I'll need something for my troubles, of course..." he trailed off and eyed Hannah specutively.

"Oh...of course," Hannah responded. Red watched as she reached up and removed a slim chain from around her neck. "Will this do...?" she asked, proffering the necklace through the bars. Red highly doubted that the Fae would be appeased by such a simple trinket, but was surprised when the orange-haired creature accepted the chain with a smile and a bow.

"I thank you kindly, my dear lady! And now if you will only give me a moment," the Fae disappeared as he spoke, and re-appeared a moment later with another shower of orange sparks next to Hannah in the cellar. Red moved closer to the window, and watched silently with many misgivings as the flamboyant Fae seated himself at the spindle and began to spin.

He watched as the man fed the spinning wheel piece after piece of straw, a look of astonishment on his face as each and every piece was turned into gold. The baker felt that he shouldn't be so surprised, that he certainly shouldn't be so impressed, but there are those that say there's a difference between thinking and knowing for a reason. After watching for a few minutes more, Red returned his attention to Hannah, intent on talking to her, when Wulf decided that that specific moment was as good a time as any to vent its distrust on the baker's rump. Said baker jumped high, shrieking in a surprisingly high pitched voice. He growled at the dog, who snarled back.

"Is this your dog, per chance?" Red asked, glaring at the animal, who began making innocent puppy eyes at the pale young woman behind the bars. Hannah shook her head.

"No..." she answered. She reached out a hand which Wulf took to immediately, happily licking it as if it were a Christmas ham. "...Wulf...comes and goes...whenever he feels...like it. He does as…he pleases..." To show that he did exactly as the miller girl had explained, the husky tried to bite Red again, but the baker neatly sidestepped the pup in mid action.

"Do that again and I'll kick you," Red told the dog, who cocked his head to the side and regarded him thoughtfully. The baker crossed his arms and stared into the dog's pale blue eyes while it contemplated him. Just when he thought they had reached some sort of understanding, though, Wulf darted in close once more and nipped Red's ankle before scampering off and disappearing into the woods. Red shouted various curses at the dog's retreating back, but didn't follow. He had his basket and he had found the woman he was supposed to help. He could settle his personal vendettas later.

"That's...odd," Hannah commented when Red turned around to return to their interrupted conversation. "Wulf is usually...more friendly..."

"Yes, well," Red muttered, rubbing his abused ankle gingerly. "I daresay his 'cousin' bites gentler than that."

Hannah gave him an inquisitive look. "Oh…? Cousin…you say?" She had a sort of knowing look on her pale face that made the baker shudder with some unknown fear. Could she know that he had spoken of Wolf maybe? No. It wasn't possible...was it?

Red looked the miller girl over, taking note of her figure, general looks and stature, and wondered if maybe Wolf and this girl had crossed paths before. In return, she scrutinized him just as much as he did, though a lot less obvious. She carefully studied him, unmoving, as if she were a statue. Reaching out as far as she could, she took hold of the hem of his cheerful red cloak. The baker looked at her, trying to figure out what she was up to, but shrugged it off as she let go, becoming thoughtful behind the bars.

"Um...Hannah?"

She looked up at him. "...Yes?"

Red shuffled a bit on his feet before taking a seat on the ground next to the window. He placed his basket beside him and put his hands on his lap. What to say next now? With the strange orange Fae doing all the dirty work there really was no need for Red to stick around. If the Count wanted gold from straw, then he was going to get it and that was that. The girl was free to go again. Then again, the hearts of men had the tendency of going astray--heading towards emotions such as greed and envy. Who really knew if the man would let the girl go or not? And then there was the strange Fae, whom he trusted as much as Wicked wore pants; that is to say, not at all. What would he do once he left him and the unsightly girl alone? There was no way to tell.

Well, it looked as though Red wasn't going to be able to return home for dinner this evening after all. He didn't trust the Fae, and he knew he couldn't leave Hannah on her own until he had seen her situation resolved with his own eyes—leaving before his chore was finished was just asking for trouble, and that was the last thing Red wanted.

Decision made, Red decided to camp out for the next three days, and returned to talking to Hannah. They chatted of this and that, and he learned that she was more than just creepiness (although, at least 70 of her was pure creepiness, while the rest were assorted things like 'highly unsightly', 'disturbingly quiet' and 'somewhat sweet') as the day went on...


	3. The Woes of Count Verkoltenstein

**CHAPTER 3**

The Woes of Count Verkoltenstein

Count Victor von Verkoltenstein shifted slightly in his slumber, frowning briefly as he did his best to ignore the persistent tones of Robert, his manservant. The man was insisting that he wake up and dress, that it was already well after sunset and that the count really ought to try not to sleep so late, how was he ever to find a wife if he never stepped foot outside, and oh! what was the world coming to? He tried to breathe as evenly as possible, hoping to convince Robert that he was still asleep. For a while it seemed to work, as the man eventually quit bustling about the bedchamber and went quiet. Victor opened one eye slightly, intending to have a quick look about and make sure that the man had gone, and nearly had a heart attack when he discovered Robert's disgruntled face not two inches from his own.

"For heaven's sake, man, don't _do_ that!" Victor exclaimed, sitting up violently and glaring at his servant, who only crossed his arms and looked smug.

"I knew you were faking, my lord," he said by way of response, and moved away from Victor's side to walk over to the large, elaborate windows along the western wall. He twitched the heavy velvet curtains open, allowing the bright moonlight into the candle-lit chamber.

"I ought to sack you," Victor mumbled, glaring sullenly at the man as he crossed the room to the fire place and began stacking kindling into a neat pile in the middle.

"What was that, my lord? I couldn't quite hear you," Robert replied cheerfully, reaching up to the mantle for the fire-lighter.

"Impertinent man," the count muttered, though he stood up and hopped over the side of his coffin and onto the floor. He made his bare-foot way over to the dressing table, where he poured water into the basin waiting there and began washing his face.

"I only have your best interests at heart, my lord," Robert responded cheerfully as he coaxed the fire into being.

Victor muttered something unintelligible around the water he was splashing in his face.

"Ah, here we are..." Robert said with a smile, rubbing his hands as he stepped away from the fireplace. He went over to the closet to pick out an outfit for his master. It wasn't very hard as the man kept over twenty copies of the exact same evening suit in the exact same shade of black (midnight). However it still took the man at least a minute to find the Right One and lay it out on the bed. "So, what are your plans for tonight, my lord? A nice moonlit walk? Serenading a lovely young lady from her balcony window? A good romp in the hay?" The last part had been said jokingly, but the count was seriously considering such an option as he rummaged through his top drawer.

"A moonlit walk? I should think not." Victor said as he set aside the various things he kept in his top drawer. Books, wands, parchment, quills and various other things went sailing through the air and landing unceremoniously on his bed or some conveniently placed chairs. "A good stalking might work...yes...As for serenading, you know I don't do that anymore...not after that annoying chit...Kris...What was her name again? No, no, no...But a good romp in some hay...Hmmm...that does sound interesting…" Victor trailed off, lost in thought, and Robert gave his master a dry look.

"My lord, forgive me for speaking frankly, but you are about as romantic as a fish." the manservant stated. In turn, Victor gave him a cheekily sullen look (an expression that had taken him over half of his life to perfect), to which Robert responded with a dramatic sigh and the beginnings of a show full of melodrama and woe. "Ho-hum! However will I explain to your departed parents how you refuse to even consider _looking_ at a woman! One would think that you indulged in improper activities--never mind that you sleep all day in a coffin and look like Death himself--"

"Herself," Victor corrected, bringing out a white mask from the drawer. "Death is a she, dear Robert."

"--herself. Oh, woe is our house...how shall it end for us?" A pause. "And like almighty Apple I'm letting you go outside with a mask on again. Give me that!" Robert snatched the mask away from his master and threw it into the fire, much to Victor's amusement. They went through this routine on a daily basis, so the count found it more amusing than infuriating. If he didn't have one mask burnt to a crisp once per day, he would think that something was wrong with his manservant. "Excuse me, my lord, but I can't let you leave this house in such a clichéd manner. I'd rather send you out naked."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Victor said with a roll of his eyes, now pulling out a ribbon to tie up his dark hair. "So, what would you have me do this night, Robert?"

"For you to cease in teasing me in such a way." Robert told him. "And find yourself a wife."

"Oh, but you're such better company than any woman in this dreadfully boring little town..."

"You just want me for my body!" Robert exclaimed melodramatically, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead in a display of mock distress.

"Hm, yes, and all the amazing things you can do with it. Speaking of which, get yourself over here and do your job," Victor said, picking up the clean shirt Robert had picked out and staring pointedly at the man. Robert grinned and bowed briefly before striding to his employer's side and helping him to dress.

The two walked downstairs together shortly after engaging in friendly banter that spoke of long acquaintance and that belied their master/servant status.

"Would you care for something to eat before you head out, my lord?" the manservant asked as the pair strode through the count's great mansion towards the front door.

"No, I'm not feeling particularly hungry at the moment," Victor responded, flicking an invisible bit of lint from his sleeve with one gloved finger. "Perhaps when I return, or possibly I'll partake of something when I get to town..."

"As you like, my lord," Robert responded easily, and hurried to open the door for the count.

Victor went to step outside, but paused on the threshold. He withdrew his hand into his silk-lined cloak for a moment then brought it back out bearing a white half-mask. He grinned when he heard Robert's groan of distress, and placed the mask firmly over his face.

"My lord..." Robert said, exasperation plain in his tone.

"Yes, Robert?" the count asked easily, his face carefully neutral.

The manservant sighed. "Nothing," he said. "Go and return safely, my lord."

"Thank you, Robert. I shall," the count responded. With those words, he turned abruptly around, his cape swirling dramatically as he did so, and stalked out of the house and outside.

---------------------

The moon was high in the velvet sky, casting dark shadows all over the place. They gave off a malicious feel, as if they had the secret purpose of swallowing the world into darkness. Sprite Lake was like a beacon through the fog, shining like a mirror catching the sun. For the past month since the masquerade ball in Tempus, Victor had taken to haunting said lake the way a lost spirit would return to the place it died. It was here that he went about the task of finding a bride.

Victor knew he would fail, of course, which suited him just fine (although if Robert found out what he was actually doing every night, he'd never live it down). He enjoyed being single. Being without a lady wife left him room to do the things he liked to—like serenading the moon and marauding around Maple Town like he owned it (which he technically did, but that was beside the point).

The noble had perched himself upon the branch of a tall tree so he could gaze without hinderence at the night sky. A cool breeze blew through the leaves, rustling them gently with the promise of Autumn. It was a good night just to sing. Smiling in contentment, he reached up to make sure that his half mask was in place before he opened his mouth wide and sang from the bottom of his heart with all of his might.

Several dogs howled, a cat raised its hackles and shrieked, sixteen glass windows broke and the sprite that the lake was named after came up from its murky depths to tell the count, in no uncertain terms, that 'if he didn't stop that blasted caterwauling soon she was going to come up there to give him something to wail about'. Oblivious to all of these events were occurring, Victor continued singing, gradually becoming louder as he went on.

Yes, the poor, oblivious noble was very much tone deaf and yet was under the delusion that he had a very good singing voice that could send the wildest of beasts into the sweetest of slumbers (when, in fact, he would often send his unwary audience into a state of coma due to severe trauma to the ears and parts of the brain). Ever since he had been a lad of six years old he had loved music. It was one of his many passions in life. But alas, no one supported his love of this particular art. Even his parents had shunned him, telling him that he should leave the arts to his older brother and to concentrate on the academics where he was much stronger.

And he did, but every night he would steal away, intent on learning the ways of song. He did rather poorly, no matter who the teacher was. Young Victor had always managed to do something to drive his tutors away. But he persevered nonetheless, determined to sing despite the odds. And here he was now, singing badly enough to bring down a roomful of chandeliers (and, consequently, the roof and several houses as well).

This particular night he had done exceedingly well. He had hit a rather high note which he usually had trouble singing, managing it with the minimal amount of gasping (due to his lack of proper schooling, he had never learned how to breathe when he sang). Having overcome an obstacle, Victor decided that it was high time to start off the second part of his night: stalking his prey. With such a _wonderful_ performance he was bound to have attracted a wandering maiden or two, right? Oh, he wouldn't dare to make one his bride (it would go against his bachelor lifestyle and ideals), but he could still have his delicious way with them…

He nimbly climbed down the tree from his branch seat. On the one nearest to the ground he deftly leapt to the ground, landing as gracefully as it was humanly possible for Victor…which wasn't all that graceful, but no one was around to point and laugh at him, so he was free to compose himself and brush the dirt off of his suit.

"Right then…time to find some prey…" Victor said with a smirk, bearing gleaming, sharp canines in the moon's light. He moved towards the direction of town when something incredible stopped him in his tracks. It was a sound unlike any other. It rose and fell with ease like the ocean tide; its pitch was as clear as a cloudless summer sky. It was gorgeous. Victor soon realized that it was the sound of a young woman singing.

He followed the voice as the song began to reach a high crescendo, practically entranced. After rounding the lake, where its resident sprite was paddling about in the water, Victor found himself by the old mill. It was from within the nearby barn that floated out such a beautiful sound. Creeping along quietly, he peeked inside.

The lantern over her head set off the highlights of the young woman's dark hair, creating the illusion of an eerie halo. She was busy cleaning up the inside of the barn, stacking up bags of flour against a wall next to a rickety wooden cart. As she worked she sang a song of woe, of a beau she would never have and a love that could never be—his kind of song. Her words and voiced moved him like nothing else. It stirred the fires of his passion…they crackled and burned like never before and he was inspired…to sing!

All movement ceased from the dark haired maiden; not a sound passed her lips. She froze like a deer in the sights of a hunter, silently waiting for the end, much to his vexation and anguish. No! What had he done? Not only had he stopped her singing he had also brought attention to himself without properly meaning to. What should he do now? Get away? Yes, that was a solid idea. Move away before she caught him…

"Who's…there…?" her voice rang out, sounding inquisitive…and spine-chilling. It gave him such a delicious shiver. But he would not answer…he could not. No matter what. Even if—

"….There is…someone…there…isn't it?" she asked again, in that slow, ghostly sort of speech she had. "Please…answer…me…if you are….there."

Oh, Ironic Overpowers—someone up there must be testing him. It wouldn't do for him to get caught. He couldn't very well have that—on the other hand, he couldn't silence her either—not after hearing a voice as splendid as hers had been. The only thing he could think of was to run away as fast as he could (an ungainly thing, but as long as no one saw him he was in the clear). Turning to get the bloody hell out of there, he inadvertedly tripped on a rock and fell flat on his face. The racket he cause further worried the young woman he had been spying on, making her move towards the entrance of the barn.

Panicking, he got up and fled the scene, leaving behind a rather befuddled girl (who had armed herself with a pitchfork just in case some deviant was waiting for her).

--------------------

Since that night, the count found double the reason to go out to his favorite haunt. He would often get up much earlier, eager as he was to seek out his miller girl who sang like a nightingale. Usually though, he would take one look outside, hiss at the light streaming through his curtains, then return to his coffin to sleep a few more hours away until it was nightfall and then he would venture out into the world in search of this fantastic woman.

This both pleased and worried his manservant. Robert was very happy that his master had finally found someone that he truly fancied (although he only found out about the girl six days after the fact when he stumbled across Victor's private journal wide open one night on a page describing, in disturbing detail, how the girl's gloomy dark eyes reflected his soul), but a tad concerned as far as the count's habits tended to go. If things continued down such an erratic way of life, he feared that his master's health would turn for the worse.

That, and looking upon the lovesick man was making him feel sick as well. Watching him now as he did, twirling about the room as if he were the happiest man in the world…At least he wasn't singing. That man could peel the paint off of a wall with his terribly off-key crooning. Still, he might reconsider hearing the man belt out a few tunes as an alternative to hearing him go on and on about this miller girl. It was beginning to grate on the manservant's nerves.

Victor sighed. "She's so wonderful! She is my ang—"

Robert interjected. "With all due respect, my lord: Say that clichéd line again and consider your throat gouged out with a spoon doused in scalding holy water."

"—angelic vision of harmonic intervals." The count finished with an innocent smile. Sashaying next to the older man, the noble leaned in to impishly ask a question, knowing full well it would annoy him.

"Oh? What's the matter Robert? _Jealous_?" he jabbed jokingly.

"Bite me, my lord." Robert ground out.

"Oooh, with pleasure!" Victor leaned in close enough to make Robert draw back slightly, but pulled away at the last moment and put his half-mask on. "But not tonight!" he declared.

Robert groaned quietly, momentarily overcome with absolute disgust at his master's behavior. "My lord..." he began, but trailed off when he saw that Victor was not listening. He watched silently as Victor pirouetted out the door, and sighed dramatically once the man was gone from sight.

Victor, meanwhile, was practically skipping in his gleeful anticipation of yet another evening of watching his glorious musical angel from afar. He had only just recently begun toying with the idea of speaking with her. It was an enormous step, after all, going from quietly stalking in the shadows to actual conversation. He nearly swooned at the idea of hearing her dulcet voice directed at him in the timeless ballet of conversational intercourse.

In fact, Victor was so distracted by his overly descriptive romantic thoughts that he failed to notice a rather heavy rustling in a nearby bank of shrubbery. He further failed to notice an ungainly wolf-like puppy emerge from aforesaid shrubbery, and was completely oblivious to the animal's rather unfriendly growling as he approached. In fact, he only finally registered the presence of the dog when it barked loudly and sank its sharp puppy teeth into his leg.

The count let out an unmanly shriek of pain and began wildly cursing the dog that had savaged him. The puppy smiled a doggy smile and pranced lightly out of his reach, pleased with its latest campaign of savaging random male passerby.

"Curse you, foul creature! Get thee back here and take what's coming to you!" Victor exclaimed, chasing after the dog as it ran away through the woods he'd been stalking through so carelessly before.

Continuing with his recent trends, Victor was so absorbed in his new thoughts of capture and revenge against the animal that had so rudely accosted him that he didn't notice he was running straight towards the mill until he practically barreled into the miller's daughter.

"Who...are you?"

There it was! That haunting, heavenly voice! Victor nearly swooned; he was so overcome with happiness. He was brought abruptly back down to earth again, however, by the puppy he had been chasing, which chose that moment to bite him once again, this time on the hand.

"Wulf!" the young woman turned to the dog, sounding shocked. The puppy, Wulf, tucked its tail between its legs and stared up at her, blue eyes wide and innocent.

"I am...sorry," the girl turned back to Victor apologetically. "He is normally...quite friendly,"

Victor wanted to say something condemning, but found he could not in the presence of this stunning young woman. "It's...alright," he said, lying through his teeth. He realized that his first impression upon the woman of his dreams was thoroughly ruined--he'd wanted to make an amazing, dramatic first entrance into her life, to proclaim something that she would remember forever, not...

"You are...bleeding," she observed. Victor looked down and saw that it was indeed true.

"It's really alright," he said again, mentally cursing himself at the same time. He must sound like some half-wit fool, the way he kept repeating himself. When he returned home this eve, he would have to console himself by writing dark, angsty poetry in his journal about how her eyes reflected the moonlight like twin pools of black, shining their perfect light upon his useless, pitiful soul...

"Please...allow me...to help you," she said in her slow, halting way. "That bite...should be washed."

Before Victor knew it she was holding him by the hand (the _hand_), pulling him in the direction of her house. He was so stupefied that the girl he fancied was making physical contact with him that he barely noticed the protruding root in the ground and, therefore, wound up tripping on it and into the girl for the second time that night.

All was still. Even the crickets in the nearby bushes were silenced. The count didn't know whether to be mortified or incredibly giddy with joy. Many a time he fantasized about their first night together...the passion...the romance...the joy of copulation with the one he so soulfully loved! Of course...he had imagined such a scene with a large, queen sized bed with black comforters, covered with rose petals (black, of course) and possibly a string quartet in the background...

"...Are you...alright?" she asked, snapping him out of his slowly downward spiraling reverie.

"Uh...I'm...alright..." he said, much to his continued embarrassment. What was wrong with him? Why had his vocabulary suddenly shrunk to three words? He was a man of sophistication! A man of the world who loved song! So why couldn't he bring himself to string together a sentence with more than just three or four syllables? If only he could bash his head against a tree. He got off of her at her insistence, but only managed to get moving again because she did most of the work. He was busy being wrapped up in his own little dark world of woe and melodrama...

"What's...your...name...?"

"Huh?" Ironic Overpowers! Another mistake! That was the worst thing he had said yet!

"I asked...your name...sir..." she said, pulling him along once again. She had him wait at the door as she unlocked it and entered the house to put on a light. Once the small building was illuminated with candlelight, Victor could look in and see that it was a quaint little home. It smelt of old wood and wild flowers. The miller girl invited him inside and told him to sit in the kitchen while she went to fetch a cloth and some cool water from the well. Properly equiped to wash his wounded hand, she instructed him to relax while she tended to him. He had neglected to say his name, but he was much too busy admiring her to do much else except what he told him to.

"Well, my name...is...Hannah..."

Hannah! A veritably angelic name for his angel! A name of such sweet, honest perfection, any real angel would instantly weep upon being confronted by it! The only thing more beautiful than the woman's name was the woman herself, she who he loved above any other...

...But what was he thinking? He didn't even know her! And yet, here she was, washing his vicious bite wound, fussing over him and caring for him as though they had known each other for years...perhaps it was destiny!

"Do you have...a name?" she asked as she carefully dabbed his wound.

Now was the moment of truth and redemption! He could start anew by making a good and long lasting impression upon his supernatural being of ethereal melody by making a dramatic reveal to the woman before him in a random bout of song as he ripped off his mask! Oh, what rapturous joy would he feel when he told her of whom he was--how stunned she would look to know that she had been tending to nobility the entire time and yet, stay uncaring because he believed she was the type of girl who looked above a person's station--especially in the matters of love. Yes! This was his Hannah...

Victor opened his mouth to voice his inner happiness, but no sound passed his lips. Staring at Hannah he found himself at a total loss for words. Well, the least he could do was to pull off his mask in one full swing off his arm, but found that he only made the miller girl quite cross with him for almost smacking her face with the very hand she was treating. Suitably chastised by a wooden spoon she found nearby, he waited quietly until she had finished before trying to say anything.

"Er...I...that wolf..."

"Wulf," she corrected. "Although...I do...suspect...that he does...carry a bit...of...wolf blood...yet..."

He looked at her for a few seconds, then tried to continue on without pausing or stammering too much. "So...is he yours?" She shook her head.

"No...not at all...though...quite a few...have begun to believe...so." she replied, leaving his side to go over to the cupboards. She searched through them for a clean pair of cups, then filled them up with what was left of the remaining unused water from the well. She handed one to Victor (who had to fight from crying in absolute joy when he received it, thinking it a divine gift of some sort) before taking a seat. "But you have...not...answered my...question...not by...a long shot."

At this, the count actually chuckled, beginning to feel just a bit more relaxed now that he was spending actual time around her instead of just stalking her through the night. Now that he thought of it, why was she up late all the time? For the last several nights he had often caught her wandering about or doing something or other within her home. Sometimes a friend would come and visit her and they would disappear in one of the windowless rooms for a while, but whenever Victor saw Hannah she was usually up and about.

He blinked. Wow. He actually had his first coherent (and non-flowery) thought about the girl of his dreams. Spending actual time was doing wonders for him. He should try it more often.

But right now...what to say?

The count glanced at her, finding a rather expectant expression upon her features. She really wanted to know his name. He smiled mysteriously. Well, now that he had calmed down somewhat, maybe he could finally string together a complete sentence without making a total fool of himself.

"I AM THAT WHICH STALKS THE LONELY NIGHT AT MIDNIGHT! I AM THE SHADOWS THAT LURK WITHIN THE BACK OF YOUR MIND! I AM THE ONE WHO HAUNTS THE HALLOWED HALLS OF OPERA! I AM THE PH--"

"Fop in a mask who will get off of my kitchen table before he does himself further injury." Hannah cut in, voice stern and for once not speaking in her usual, halting manner. Looking thoroughly embarrassed, the count slowly came down from the table he had climbed onto in the midst of his random self-proclamation. He gave her a sheepish grin.

"Sorry." he said.

She looked him up and down. "...I can...see...that."

At this, for no real reason, they shared a chuckle.

Conversation between began to flow much easier after that. Victor did not reveal who he was (considering that he was busy trying to find out everything he could about Hannah), and it became a sort of game between them after a while when she still tried to inquire into his name. It evolved into a drinking game that required both having to answer the call of nature at least two or three times that night. She had come close to his name, but couldn't quite grasp it yet and it made him smile whenever he discovered a new emotion--like frustration--upon her usually expressionless visage.

But the night was wearing on and the sun--Victor's mortal enemy since goodness only knew when--was going to make its appearance soon, and he realized it was high time to be getting on home and to let the both of them take a rest. He said as much (well, the resting and him getting home part, at any rate) to Hannah, who nodded in understanding, delicately hiding a yawn behind a hand.

"Will...you...be back?" the miller girl inquired as she walked him back to the edge of the forest. The young woman looked at him so hopefully the count had to resist the urge to do some incredibly stupid thing like fling himself upon her and ravish her then and there while spouting poetry about her deep, soulful midnight eyes.

"But of course." he promised. Grinning, he swept her a deep, theatrical bow he had learned from his older brother (the more musically and also very much more _theatrically_ inclined sibling). "Farewell, sweet Hannah. I shall never forget your kindness on this night!" he said, and started to back-up dramatically, only to nearly smack into a tree.

She raised an eyebrow, but the corners of her lips were slowly tugging up, as she had grown rather fond of his antics as the hours between them had gone on. She smiled and giggled as he swirled his cape and made off into the forest.

"Verily and forsooth!" he shouted. "I am off!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Hannah knotted her brows and stepped forward, looking a tad concerned. "Are you...alright?"

Victor blinked. "Er...what?"

The miller girl sighed and put her hands on her hips. "You're...hiding...behind...that tree..."

Indeed. Victor had hidden himself behind the most convenient tree in the hopes of making a nice and mysterious sort of exit to make her think he had vanished into thin air. Of course, his little plan to impress her might have worked better if he had chosen to hide behind the large oak that was right next to the sapling which he had chosen as a hiding place. Blushing in embarrassment, he quickly scampered home.

--------------

Count Victor von Verkoltenstein visited Hannah the very next night, as he had promised. And the next night. And the next night and the next several nights after that. He would surprise her in the woods; woo her with his singing voice (which miraculously didn't seem to faze her at all), or call out to her from far away. They spent many white nights together, getting to know one another and slowly becoming less awkward with one another. Victor had learned to stop making up such strange fantasies about the woman of his dreams (though, realistically, he did still have the occasional fantasy that popped up now and again), while Hannah...Well, Hannah stayed mostly the same, though she spoke much more fluidly with him as the weeks passed than when she had at the time of their first meeting.

They told each other many things during those special nights. Hannah often spoke of her love for making dolls; of her father and mother and how heartbroken the man had become after his dear wife had passed away and how he spent his time at the local pub just whiling his time away. Victor, in turn, talked about his own family, though he did some creative editing to make sure not to give away his name, as their name game was still on. The count talked about his overbearing parents and of his two siblings, both of whom had suffered rather tragic lives.

"...my older brother, Erik...poor man...was born with half of his face grotesque...but he is probably the handsomest man you'll have ever seen, if you just cover that particular little blemish up. Love_--the_ Love--often tried to win him to her side...make him her new Adonis, if you, will...But he only had one true love in his life...Music." Victor said, pretending to paint a picture of his older brother with an imaginary paintbrush. He sighed and put his hand down. "He died some time ago though...in a fire...almost took Morgan away, too..."

Hannah cocked her head to the side, eyes shining with curiosity. "...Morgan?" The man often spoke of his great and talented older brother, but rarely of his younger sibling, so whenever this mysterious person was brought up, she would try to ask into the matter.

"Yes, yes...Morgan. Younger sib. I told you that I was the middle child of three, right?" Hannah nodded. "Well, Morgan was the intended target for said fire and was caught in it with a singer lady friend of Erik's. Both were almost cooked alive--if Erik hadn't come in to save them...the singer got out just fine. Erik suffered terrible burns, which he later died from--"

"That's terrible!"

"Don't I know it...And Morgan...half of Morgan's face--from what I heard, maybe it's just a rumor, haven't seen the runt in years--was scarred...long time to heal over, too..."

"How awful!" Hannah said, her quiet voice full of sympathy.

Victor smiled at this heavenly creature of goodness and song - she had never met either of his siblings, and yet here she was, practically brimming over with heartfelt emotion for their plight...

"And you...haven't met with Morgan for...a few years now? Perhaps you ought to visit..." Hannah continued when it became apparent that all the masked man was going to do was smile happily at her.

Victor blinked. "Well...possibly..." he acceded, though privately he thought it wasn't very likely. He would love to see Morgan again, but the dear child lived so far away, and Victor hated to travel further than a few leagues from his mansion...

The two spent the rest of the evening in pleasant conversation as the topic of discussion turned to other things. Instead of staying into the wee hours of the morning as he had made a habit of doing over the past few months, Victor excused himself relatively early from the presence of his angel so he could make his way into town. He had been mulling over the idea of proposing to Hannah for several weeks now. Before he had come to know her so well, he'd had no intention of ever getting married, but now he would gladly give up his bachelor lifestyle for his beloved Hannah. All he had to do was ask for her father's blessing, and then he could propose to the woman of his dreams, and he would bring her to his mansion and they would live happily ever after...

As he neared the tavern he knew Hannah's father frequented, Victor was surprised by a rather loud commotion. Drawing closer in the shadows, he sidled up to the door and took a careful look around the doorframe.

Inside he could see a handful of men, one of whom he knew to be Hannah's father, the miller. The man was waving an empty stein around wildly, talking in a loud, slurred voice.

"O'course m' daughter c'n spin straw to gold! Ye callin' me a liar, McTaggart?"

Victor blinked in surprise at the miller's outrageous claim, and paused on the threshold of the tavern. He knew that Hannah was not very good at regular spinning, as she had already told him...Why was her father claiming that she possessed an ability way beyond that of her talents?

"'Course I am." McTaggart replied, sounding much more sober than the miller. "I know yer girl well enough. I know she can make the best dolls--no doubt about that. She made my little Sally her first toys, 'ter all. But Hannah can' spin fer her life. She's terrible at it."

Victor's ire was rising. How dare he say such things about his ethereal vision of sharp and flat notes! Well, he was only speaking the truth, but still...And that man! That blasted miller! He was the one who set up such a terrible situation in the first place! If he hadn't blurted out such nonsense, then Hannah's name would not have to deal with such slander...He had to do something? But what? What could he do now...?

The count stood outside the tavern, pondering about the problem at hand, almost completely forgetting why he had come in the first place. When the thought of marrying Hannah and the lie that the miller had presented to his bar buddies crossed, he formulated a plan that would make everything all the better. Of course, it would be hard to pull off, but he was sure that if he put all of his effort into it...all shall turn out for the best. Yes...who needed his future father-in-law's blessing? He had his Master Plan!

"That's right." he said to himself, steepling his fingers. "As the count, I shall order my men to go out and take Hannah prisoner--they'll have to do it roughly or the townspeople might feel that something is up, forgive me Hannah--" The masked man prayed silently to the heavens for a few seconds before picking up where he left off on his train of thought. "--and then she'll be left in one of the prison cells...yes...and...let's see...Oh...we shall wait until she sleeps...replace the straw with some gold...and all shall work! Yes!" He struck a heroic pose as a few women on their way home from late shopping passed him by, whispering to one another about the oddness of men. "And then we'll get together and live happily ever after and have lots and lots of beautiful undead babies of the night...Oh, yes...it shall be perfect..."

Giggling in anticipation, he ran home to quickly tell Robert of his Master Plan so they could put it into action.

If he only knew how horribly wrong everything would turn out.


	4. Complicated Situations

**Chapter 4**

Complicated Situations

Red sighed in frustration and massaged the bridge of his nose. He had found his way to and spent the night in the Miller's barn, at Hannah's insistence. He was only just now returned from his uneasy night spent in said barn, and already the headache he'd acquired from lack of sleep was being aggravated into what was looking to be a rather terrible migraine by the mysterious orange Fae who had appeared yesterday.

"There my young miss, you see? One room full of straw, spun faithfully into gold, as promised! What do you think of that?"

Red glared at the entirely too perky and cheerful creature before him, and refrained from replying. The only things he could think of to say were incredibly rude suggestions for self-inflicted physical gratification, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give this blasted Fae an excuse to smirk and leer at him any more than he was already doing.

"Thank you...very much...for your help," Hannah spoke up from her prison cell, removing the obnoxious Fae's attention from Red.

"Oh, think nothing of it, my dear girl! It was my pleasure!" as he said this, the orange fairy took Hannah's hand in his through the prison bars and kissed it in an exaggerated display of gallantry. Red was hard pressed to keep from gagging.

"And now, my beauties, I must away! Take care, live well, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" this last was directed at Red with a smirk and a wink, before the Fae disappeared in a loud burst of orange sparkles and smoke. This time Red did gag, because the smoke, which smelled strongly of oranges, got into his eyes and made them sting.

"Are you...alright?" Hannah asked in concern, looking on from her prison cell window.

"Never...better," Red gasped between bouts of coughing.

It took him a few more gulps of fresh air and several waves of his hand before the baker in red was able to breathe properly without his lungs burning in his chest. Once he was more or less back to normal, he was able to look Hannah in the eye and ask her a question. "Now, when does this count of yours come in to check on you?" The young woman shrugged.

"I'm...not sure. And it...certainly...has been a while...it's been morning...for who knows...how long..." she told Red. She gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry...I don't...know much about...the count...even if...he governs our town...he is rarely ever...seen..."

Red raised an eyebrow. Rarely ever seen? "Really?" Hannah nodded.

"Oh, yes..." she replied. "...Count Verkoltenstein...is rarely ever...seen by...the light of day..."

"That seems a bit...odd..." Red responded, furrowing his brow in puzzlement. Hannah simply shrugged.

"I am sorry…I can tell you no more," she said apologetically. She seemed about to say more, but interrupted herself with a large yawn. Red watched with concern.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" he asked, though he suspected he knew what the answer would be. He certainly wouldn't have been able to sleep while in the same room as that mysterious plucky Fae.

"No, I'm afraid not," she responded, rubbing her eyes briefly with her knuckles. "It was rather…a little too loud…with that nice fairy at the spinning wheel…"

"Mmm…I'll bet," Red muttered to himself. "Well…I'm going to go see if I can find some food in town. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"That is…most kind. But I think…I shall decline. I intend…to sleep shortly, you see…" Hannah said, smiling softly.

Red nodded in understanding and took his leave quickly after, striding as quickly as he could through the forest surrounding the Count's castle and back to the main road that led into town.

He took his time meandering through the town, taking in everything and committing it to memory. He had wanted to do this the day before, but because he'd been either too busy glaring daggers at the nameless fae or been occupied with getting himself to the miller's barn without getting lost, the baker hadn't really paid much attention to his surroundings then. But it was a new day now and he could explore properly.

The diminutive man had noticed something last night that was missing now that he was walking through the town during the light of day. On every window last night, or stuck to every door, had been garlands of garlic flowers, garlic cloves, and crosses. Now, it would have taken a true idiot to not realize that the villagers were warding anything other than a vampire, and Red was no idiot, so he didn't really blame anyone for looking at him suspiciously as he strode through town. For Red knew that even someone as blameless and innocent as he appeared (No one who had nearly wrecked the entire Tempus dynasty earlier that year could be considered _truly _blameless) could be a vampire.

Of course, the fact that he was walking around in bright daylight ought to help assuage any suspicion on the parts of the townsfolk, right?

Red's attention was drawn away from his hypothetical musings by a loud commotion somewhat down the street from where he was. Curious, he made his way to the scene of the ruckus.

A tall, heavyset middle-aged man was shouting and cursing to any who would listen that his daughter had been kidnapped by the Count, and that the damned vampire was going to kill her or worse, and couldn't anyone bloody _do_ anything?

Red blinked when he heard this, surprised. Could this man be Hannah's father? He seemed to know something about the situation, in any event. Perhaps if he asked the man a few questions, he might get a better idea of the current state of the town.

"Excuse me, sir!" Red called, walking swiftly towards the man, in contrast with the other passing people were making an effort to stay away. "Excuse me! Can you please tell me what's going on? What do you mean by vampire?"

Vampire. He shuddered at the thought. Next to giant spiders, rampaging unicorns, certain purple Fae, and strange girls that were a mix of the three (and sixty various other species not even native to the kingdom), vampires were up there on his list of major dislikes. Sure, they were incredibly pretty (he hadn't seen--from a distance--one who wasn't), but Red knew, better than most people, that one shouldn't judge just on looks (even if he was a shallow bastard at times). Vampires were nasty people--crafty, sly and would do just about anything to get their main sustenance: human blood. They were almost as bad as leeches (something else Red couldn't stand), only a million times harder to kill.

The Ironic Overpower must have been having a pretty bad day when they had decided to put those undead blood suckers into the world.

But, back to what was going on, for it appeared that he had finally caught the old man's attention just as he was unceremoniously knocked over by the miller's wide girth as the man turned to face him.

"Yes? What? Who's there!?" the miller demanded, blinking and looking about for the one who had called him.

"I'm...down here..." Red groaned, getting his feet underneath him and collecting himself to stand up.

"What the hell ya doin' down there, lass?" the miller asked, reaching down a hand to help Red to his feet. Red accepted his help gracefully, though inside he wanted nothing more than to glare at the man who had knocked him to the dusty ground.

"I tripped," he replied shortly, brushing the worst of the dirt from his shirt. It had been so clean yesterday, too! Damn the man!

"Well, lass, what did you need? I'm rather busy at the moment, y'see," the miller explained.

Red gritted his teeth to prevent the insult he wanted to utter from breaking past his lips. He cleared his throat and counted silently to ten in the mean time, adopting his usual lost little girl persona that normally was very handy indeed for gathering information from potentially troublesome townsfolk.

"Well, you see, I heard you talking about a vampire. I'm passing through town, on my way to visit my grandmother, but I don't want to go on if it's dangerous," he said, all wide-eyed innocence and worry.

The miller gave him a suspicious look, as if he didn't like the expression on Red's face--which was crazy, because almost no one could resist his cute, unthreatening looks. Hell, even his _straight_ ex-boyfriend blushed whenever he flashed a cute smile and batted his eyes at him. Worried though, Red took a step back in case the guy was drunk as well as anxious (a dangerous combination if he'd ever seen one). One never knew when one would be dealing with someone possibly prone to violence while inebriated.

Finally, the man answered, though he kept a studious eye on the baker as he began to explain. "Ye see, lass...many of us suspect that the keeper of our town, the Count Verkoltenstein--sent all the way down from the cursed northern winter lands--is really a vampire!" he said, waving and gesticulating dramatically. Red made a genuine face of surprise, for though it was probably the second or third time he had heard this it was still a bit of a shock to him that the count might actually be a vampire.

"Really? How's that, sir?" he asked, making sure that his voice was high without sounding too falsetto. If the count was a vampire, what could _Red_ possibly do to keep Hannah from getting killed as his godmother had asked him? He mentally sighed. There went the hopes of getting home early, again. Why did things always go downhill whenever he went out to do some chore for Death?

"Ah, lass...yer must be really new to these parts...the Count Verkoltenstein has only ever been seen at night...he prowls the roads...singing his terrible banshee song...EEEERRRRREEEEEEEAAAAAARGH!!" The man had shrieked the last part, raising his arms high up in the air and baring his teeth, pretending to be a stereotypical vampire to show Red exactly what he meant.

Red, startled, leapt back from the man and knocked into someone who had made the unfortunate mistake of walking behind him at that exact moment.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" the man growled, shoving Red roughly away from him and glaring.

"Er, sorry," Red apologized, and tried to back away. However, the man held firmly to his shoulder and refused to let him go. Startled, Red blinked and looked up into his face, and had to restrain a groan of dismay. The dark-haired man who continued to prevent his escape blinked his startlingly blue eyes, and his glare modified somewhat to a look of vague disgust.

"Red Riding Reaper?" he asked, almost as though he would rather not hear the answer.

"Neil," Red acknowledged, his voice frosty.

"What are you doing here?" Neil demanded, tightening his grip on Red's shoulder.

"_Working_, though it's really none of _your_ business," Red snapped. He dropped his shoulder and twisted from Neil's grip, taking several steps away from him before pausing to see what he would do.

"Eh, what's this, lass? This gent bothering you?" the miller asked, stepping forward so that he was slightly between Red and the tall hero-type who was accosting him.

"Lass? HA!" Neil laughed. "That sneaky bastard's about as much of a lass as I am, sir. Don't be fooled by his big doe-eyes. The only feminine thing about him is his ridiculous girly act, which I am not at all surprised to see he's still using. I knew you liked 'em older, Red, but I didn't think you went for 'em _that_ old," he finished, smirking mightily at Red, who glared right back for all he was worth.

"Is that right?" The miller, who had seemed to be warming up to Red a bit, now stared at him coldly.

Red Reaper was caught between explaining himself and digging himself a deeper hole. He glowered furiously at Neil for all he was worth for breaking his cover. He couldn't believe it! First Wolf had appeared out of the blue after ten years of relative silence, then he'd met up with his ex-boyfriend back at the Sleeping Forest after not seeing _him_ for several years, and now _this_ piece of scum was in his face! Who next? His dearly departed parents?! That was _exactly_ what he needed..._undead parents_. Like the walking embodiment of Death wasn't enough...

The baker looked at the angry yet expectant face of the miller, then at the smirking countenance of the arrogant bastard who had spoiled his interview. Of course, Neil hadn't always been a total jerk. There had been times where the man had been pretty tolerable. After all, the swordsman had saved him from a few bad scrapes back in his younger days, and he had been very grateful--so grateful that he would have given him his most prized possession...

But, predictably, things hadn't gone so well after a particular incident involving an inn in Baker Town and several overly righteous villagers--and whipped cream. Red could _definitely _not forget the whipped cream.

And here he was now, in a fix thanks to the wandering hero instead of being saved by him. So, once again, Red had to open his mouth to say something in his defense. Anything. Even if it involved unicorns and magical underpants. But alas, the only thing that came out of his mouth was silence.

He was at a loss for words. Unfortunately, his mind was thinking otherwise, as one word echoed through its recesses...

_Crap._

With one final glare at Neil and without another word, Red spun around and stalked off. If he had hoped to be rid of the annoyance of Neil, however, he was sorely disappointed when he heard the tread of the man's boots on the cobblestone walk behind him.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, Little Red?" the man asked pleasantly as he drew even with him and matched his pace.

"Away from you," Red retorted, fixing his eyes on the road in front of him and refusing to look at Neil.

"Now now, that's unkind. We've only just met up again after years apart; I would have thought you'd want to...catch up," Neil responded, his voice practically oozing sarcasm.

"What in the seven hells makes you think that?" Red snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face his antagonist. "The last I saw of you was your naked backside as you ran off to who knows where moments after you discovered I was a man."

Neil didn't wince as Red reminded them of their last, fateful encounter, years and years ago now. He simply raised an eyebrow and looked down at Red condescendingly from his over six feet of height. "If you hadn't pretended to be a girl when I'd first met you, that would never have happened."

"I didn't _pretend,_ you _assumed._" Red snapped, putting his hands on his hips and glaring. "For your information, I'm very busy right now, and I don't have the time to argue with you. I won't lie and say it's been a pleasure, since it hasn't." As he said this, he spun on his heel and stalked off once more, trying to put this whole encounter from his mind even as he took his first few steps. He was hindered somewhat by the sound of Neil's boots behind him as the man continued to follow.

"Very busy, I see, I see...Asking around about the local vampire, I heard? Mere mortal men not cutting it for you anymore?"

"What business is it of yours?" Red demanded angrily, picking up his pace somewhat.

"It's not really, I suppose, except that I'm in town to _kill_ the vampire, and I wouldn't want you to get in the way."

"That's so sweet of you to worry like that, but you really don't need to," Red responded icily. "I have no intention of getting anywhere _near_ the count, if he even is a vampire. Now why don't you toddle off like a good little hero and go rescue a damsel in distress or something?"

"Nah, I just rescued one a few towns over. Quite the voluptuous maiden she was too," Neil said conversationally. "Not that you'd be interested" he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Good for you, Neil. Really. Now why don't you leave me alone and go kill your vampire or something?" Red was getting ready to sprint in a last desperate bid to get away from the annoying bastard who insisted on harassing him.

"Because talking to you is so much more fun," Neil said with a sneer. He placed his hand once more on Red's shoulder, bringing the baker to a halt. Red suddenly experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach, a premonition of something horrible that undoubtedly meant a shed-load of trouble for him.

"Good people of Maple Town!" Neil shouted, raising his voice and grabbing the attention of the many townsfolk who were milling about gossiping on the sidewalks or walking purposefully along on their daily errands. "I have right here with me a lad who has just confessed to consorting with the vampire!"

Red gasped and stared incredulously at Neil, who looked back at him with a self-satisfied smirk.

"What do you think you are _doing!?_" Red hissed, trying unsuccessfully to twist away from Neil's iron grip. "Do you want to get me _killed!?_"

Neil merely ignored him and went on to inform the townsfolk, who were now all listening quite intently to the handsome dark-haired hero, that the wicked lad in his custody had the equally wicked intention of becoming a vampire himself in order to further terrorize the poor, innocent townsfolk, and were they going to stand for that?

Red was struggling quite violently now, and getting nowhere. The townsfolk were now gathering in a loose circle around him and Neil, murmuring quietly amongst themselves and shooting suspicious glances at Red.

Desperately, Red did a once-over on Neil, searching for some weakness in the man's leather armor. Stepping on his toes to get away would be a no-go—Neil's hard leather boots would absorb the impact. Kicking him in the groin (a very appealing prospect at this moment for Red, it must be said) would probably be equally ineffective, as Neil had that particular bit of anatomy armored even better than his feet. Scratching his fingernails across Neil's tastelessly un-armored and uncovered stomach? No, he'd just trimmed them recently—they were no good for inflicting pain at the moment. It seemed his only option was...

Even as he thought it, he acted. Red jerked his head, twisting his neck, and bit Neil's arm just between his elbow and the top of his leather gauntlet. Neil yelled in shock and thrust Red away, an automatic reaction to an unanticipated action on Red's part. Red had been counting on this, and was already running, ducking and dodging between the gathered villagers and into the open street just beyond.

"After him!" he heard Neil shout. "He's already been infected, it seems! Catch him before he gets away!"

_Fat chance,_ Red thought grimly, and put his head down and pumped his arms, catching his rhythm and running for all he was worth.

The task of running away from an angry mob was cake for someone like Red, who commuted on foot from kingdom to kingdom on an almost daily basis. The fact that he had done this well over a dozen times now also gave him a certain edge that beginning cowards fleeing for their lives only wished they had. But he was irked to no end now, because it seemed that he would be run out of town, and that was a bit problematic. If he couldn't continue investigating the count because he was unable to set foot within Maple Town again, he wouldn't be able to save Hannah from the supposed vampire _or_ that shifty orange Fae, and from whatever else the Overpowers had in store for her.

Had he the time, he would have raised a fist in the air and shaken it angrily.

_What can I do now, though?_ he thought to himself as he hurdled over a inconveniently placed log. _I can't leave this unfinished. I can't let Hannah's life end at the hands of a vampire...or worse...That damn Fae might try to do something sneaky!_ The baker's face went sour as his mind drifted onto the topic of the awfully helpful fairy and what he might do to an innocent, sleeping miller girl. Who knew what would happen if he got himself killed by the misinformed villagers? At least it wasn't a witch hunt. Those were never pretty. He should be thanking his lucky stars that no one had stuck a fake, warty nose on his face...

"Get the vampire!"

"Cut its head off!"

"Burn--wait...why are we chasing a vampire during the _day_?"

"Kill the non-believer!" Neil yelled, before logic had a chance to work its way into the minds of the fearful villagers chasing after Red. Hearing him shout such a thing, both the unfortunate villager and the indignant baker both yelled a decisive, 'Hey!' in objection. A few of the villagers stopped running after Red to beat down the offending logical man who had dared to question why they were chasing after the accused, while the rest continued with the pursuit.

He had to jump over and run around many odd objects that had simply been left in the street, most of which the sort of things that shouldn't be left unattended on a ground, as well as dodge rocks, pitchforks and rolling pins (just when had the villagers stopped to get _those!?_) which were being thrown at him by the angry townsfolk.

After several minutes of running non-stop, Red had run clean out of Maple Town and into the wilderness beyond. The angry mob had fallen behind a good way, which was fortunate as the man's legs were beginning to cramp up, slowing him down. He was also aware of the first signs of what promised to be a rather painful stitch in his side as he did his best to keep up his quick pace. It was hard, what with having to jump over various fallen objects and making sure his cape didn't snag on anything, because Wolf wasn't around to save him this time.

_Wolf!_

He felt sick all of a sudden, thinking about the man. Was he lovesick? Or just plain sick to his stomach? He wasn't sure, but this momentary distraction was long enough for Red to take a misstep and fall into a ditch somewhere within the forest he finally noticed he had run into.

_Forest? _he thought, fuzzily, rubbing his head where it had connected with the ground. _When did I get into a forest? And which one?_

Red didn't recognize his surroundings at first, as he was preoccupied with making sure he didn't have a concussion ("My name is Red Riding Reaper. Muffet on my mom's side; Inlaw on my dad's." he muttered quietly to himself.), but after he was sprinkled with bright yellow dust that wouldn't come off right away, he knew exactly where he had been run into.

The Fae Forest.

_Crap._

"Gretel, quit wastin' Uncle Raddy's dust!" Red whirled at the sound of a voice, heart hammering, and blinked. Before him stood two human children, a boy and a girl. The boy was probably about eight or nine, the girl a few years younger. They both had brown hair, and were dressed in matching green and pink outfits – that is, the boy wore the green while the girl wore the pink.

"Hey, mister, are you alright?" the little girl asked, ignoring the boy and liberally sprinkling a bit more of the bright yellow powder about on the ground right in front of her.

"Er...yes, I think so," Red said, climbing slowly to his feet and checking for further injury as he went. Everything seemed hale and whole, though he was still panting heavily and his side still had a stitch in it from running. "Um...did you say 'Uncle Raddy'?" Red asked after a moment when the children, both blue-eyed and cherub-cheeked, just stared at him silently.

"Yes, Uncle Raddy. He's our godfather. D'you know him, mister?" the little girl responded.

"Yes...we know each other. Where is he?" Red asked, looking around the forest, and more specifically behind him. It didn't seem as though any of the villagers had followed him this far...It looked like he had made a clean get-away. But he was going to have to find some way to pay Neil back for totally poisoning his presence in town. How the hell was he supposed to continue investigating if everyone he saw thought he was a vampire? Bloody interfering nuisance...

"He's at home," the boy responded.

"Do you know where that is?" Red asked patiently. He'd always liked children, and these two seemed to be fairly nice.

"'Course," the girl said. "D'you want us to take you there?" she offered, popping a cork in the now nearly empty vial she'd carried the yellow fairy dust in and tucking it away in her pocket.

"Please," Red said, nodding.

"'S this way," the boy said, pointing off into the woods. Red blinked and looked for a path, but didn't see any. Realizing he shouldn't be too trusting of strange children (even if they appeared to be human) in the middle of the Fae Forest, he paused.

"How do you know the way?" he asked, trying to sound harmlessly curious.

The little boy scoffed. "We've got our Fairy Stones, o' course," he said. "If you drop 'em on the ground, they'll glow and show you the way back," he explained as though everyone should know this.

"Ah, I see," Red said, though inside he was quite stunned. _They really _do_ exist!?_ _Holy hells! _"Well, please, lead on," he said, gesturing for the two to precede him.

"'Kay. C'mon," the boy said, and turned and ducked into the underbrush. The little girl followed closely after, and Red brought up the rear. As they walked, the boy bent down occasionally and picked up what seemed to be random pebbles, and dropped them into his pocket. _The Fairy Stones?_ Red wondered. _Probably. How...odd._

After about twenty minutes of hiking through the undergrowth, the trio came upon a path, which the little boy took without hesitation. They followed the road for another ten minutes, and eventually came upon a neat little log cabin. A small curl of smoke drifted away from the brick chimney, and the glass windows glowed with the warm, inviting light of the fire within.

"Uncle Raddy, Uncle Raddy, we're back!" the little boy cried, running up to the cabin and letting himself in through the front door without ceremony. The little girl followed, calling out,

"We brought a stranger! He says he knows you!"

"He does, does he?" Red heard the familiar soft voice drifting out of the wide open front door, which the little girl had neglected to close behind her. He stood awkwardly a few steps away from the threshold, waiting.

"Uh-huh! And he's real pretty, too!" she said excitedly, making Red blush a bit with a nice sort of embarrassment--the type only a child could make you feel; the kind that makes you smile and want to hug them. Of course, with the two of them being complete strangers, the baker decided to hold off on any hugging until after he'd met up with the kids' 'Uncle Raddy'. Tentatively, he stepped a bit into the doorway, carefully peering in right at the moment that a tall, brown fairy swept the girl-child up into the air before holding her close in the safety of his arms. Though his face was covered by a plain wooden mask, Red knew that Raddy the Brown must be looking down upon the girl with the sweetest expression in the world.

Raddy chuckled. "I'm sure he is, Gretel," he said gently, traces of his soft laugh in his voice. The girl, Gretel, gave him a kiss on his ear (for she couldn't very well kiss an expressionless mask). He let out another little chortle as he set the child down onto the floor, tucking an errant lock of her chestnut hair away from her face before turning to confront the older boy. "And what say you, young Hansel?"

Hansel looked up at the fairy, puffing his chest out a little and standing straight as if he were addressing someone important, such as a commanding officer. Or a king. Yes, Raddy the Brown did have the makings of someone as great as a king, Red thought. Just as he had the makings of a good father...

"It looked like he needed some help." the boy responded, to which the mud-colored fairy nodded in approval.

"Alright. Very fine work, little Hansel." he said. "You'll make an excellent soldier one day...a knight even." he added, a congenial smile in his voice. Stretching his wings a bit, Raddy turned to the doorway to face the man who had come with the children. He had intended to go outside and have a friendly (if slightly concerned) chat outside, but froze on the spot when he saw who it was. Red smiled tentatively at him. Now that he was here, looking at Raddy, he got the sudden feeling that this reunion might be a bad idea. As happy as he was to see his childhood friend again, old wounds from the past were surging up in the back of his mind and threatening to overwhelm him, making it difficult for him to think of anything to say. It seemed that Raddy was having the same difficulty.

"Hello, Raddy. It's been a while." Red finally said after a few moments of silence had stretched between them with only the crackle of the fire to break it occasionally. The fairy did not respond immediately, however, remaining silent. With the mask in place, it was impossible to really tell what he was thinking or what he was possibly going to do.

When he raised a hand, Red unconsciously flinched, expecting the fairy to lunge at him in order to strike him across the face, but...

"'Could it be?' He wonders to himself. That freckled face, those doe brown eyes and that cheerful red cloak...He sees them all, but can barely believe it. Is that you, Red?"

Red wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he said nothing.

Gretel looked up at the brown fairy. "Uncle Raddy...you're doing it again."

Raddy looked down at the little girl and gave an embarrassed cough. "Sorry, dear. Red!" he said, turning back to the man still standing, awkward, in the doorway. "Come in! Do come in! Have a seat! Hansel, go put the kettle on. Come on in, don't be shy!"

Red could hardly believe the warm welcome Raddy was lavishing upon him, especially considering the circumstances of their last meeting over ten years ago. But then, the baker remembered, Raddy had never really been one to hold grudges. Relaxing a bit, Red stepped into the cozy interior of the cabin and allowed Gretel to lead him to the kitchen table and show him to his chair. When he had seated himself comfortably, she surprised him by crawling into his lap and settling down there. Red certainly wasn't going to object. He wrapped his arms around her little waist and settled her more firmly in position, smiling slightly at the feel of her small body.

Raddy bustled about in the kitchen keeping a strict eye on Hansel, who was helping him. In a very short time he had produced the tea and a plate of biscuits, which he set on the table in front of Red.

Red dug in without ceremony—as was common when he was out and about doing his chores, he hadn't eaten anything since early this morning, when he'd woken up. After dealing with that headache of a Fae followed shortly after by the appearance of Neil the Roaming Hero, he'd had little appetite, but the headlong run for his life from town to the forest had brought it right back, and now he was starving.

The brown fairy settled himself in a chair opposite Red, twitching his mud-colored wings as he did so. Once he was situated, Hansel wasted no time crawling into his lap and settling down himself. The little boy reached for a biscuit from the plate, and Red moved it closer to him so that he could pick one out for himself.

"He watches Red Reaper chew avidly, and wonders to himself what brings the young man into his part of the world," Raddy muttered quietly to himself. Red looked up and saw the dark eye-holes of Raddy's mask were fixed firmly on him.

"Uncle Raddy..." Gretel began, shifting slightly in Red's lap and reaching for a biscuit for herself. Red helpfully moved the plate closer to where her small arm could more easily reach.

"Sorry dear," Raddy said in a louder voice, turning his head slightly so that it was apparent he was looking at Gretel.

"It's the usual story," Red told Raddy without preamble. He then launched into an explanation of his latest chore, for Raddy the Brown knew all about Red and the work he did, and there was no point in trying to hide from him what he was doing. He told him everything. From Azrael's visit ("How is he doing, anyways?" Raddy inquired. "Still the same cheerful elf he always was." Red replied.) to his first meeting with Wulf and then with Hannah at the Count's estate. He explained the circumstances surrounding what Hannah had to do to get out of a death sentence, their last exchanged words, and then how he'd almost gotten himself nearly killed when the miller's big gut had knocked him to the ground.

"Still getting into trouble, I see..." Raddy sighed, sounding both amused and sadly nostalgic. "Just like old times..."

Red stared at him for a few moments, doing his very best to keep his expression from looking too guilty. He let out a tiny breath before continuing on with what he managed to learn from the miller before Neil had showed up. At the mention of the swordsman's name, the baker could have sworn he saw an actual, physical spark light up within Raddy's eyes, as he saw them behind the dark holes of the fairy's mask for a split second--full of the rage he had feared would come when he'd first arrived at the fairy's door-step.

But quickly as that flame had ignited, it blew itself away, although the brown fairy still seemed agitated.

"Neil the Wandering Warrior, eh?" Raddy scoffed. "I haven't seen him since he was my father's godchild."

Red gaped. "Your father's _godchild?_" he asked, his voice a whisper, as if saying what he had just said would be a blasphemy worthy of him being personally smitten by the Overpowers. And he knew they were watching. Every single moment.

"Yes," Raddy said, a small smirk in his usually docile tone, "right until my father tried to sleep with him. Poor man."

"Your father or Neil?" Red couldn't help asking. Raddy stared silently at him for a long moment before bursting out into laughter. He had a nice laugh. Red smiled to hear it.

"Oh, Red, it is good to see you again," Raddy said, with such warmth in his voice that Red couldn't help but believe him. He sighed in relief.

"I'm glad to see you again, too," he responded, smiling at the masked fairy.

"Why don't you stay for dinner and spend the night, Red?" Raddy offered, shooing Hansel off of his lap so that he could stand up. He stretched his wings briefly and settled them flat against his back once more before moving into the kitchen, as if to make good on his promise of dinner right then and there.

"I would love to," Red said. "But...I really probably ought to go get my basket. I left it in the barn at the mill, and I'd rather not lose it," _again,_ he added silently, thinking of the last time he'd misplaced the item.

"Why don't I go get it for you after dinner?" Raddy offered as he began rooting through the cupboards and drawing out various foodstuffs and cooking utensils. "I can make the trip much faster than you, and you can lay low here and avoid any potentially awkward meetings with the villagers or Neil,"

"Would you mind? That would be a big help," Red sagged a bit with relief.

"Not at all. What are friends for, eh Red?" Raddy asked, his tone light and jovial. "You can watch Hansel and Gretel and keep them out of trouble while I'm out."

"That sounds easy enough," Red said, hoping he wouldn't be forced to eat his words later.

"It is, normally," Raddy agreed. Before Red could ask what he meant by that, he turned to Hansel, who had gotten out a small stool and begun peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink. "Hansel, would you please go get some water from the well? Thank you," he added as the boy immediately stopped what he was doing to do as he was bid.

Red smiled as the youth went off quietly to do as he was told, slightly surprised at the boy's obedience. Not that seeing an obedient child wasn't a welcome thing (it made children even more adorable in his eyes), but the baker rarely ever saw a male child that didn't act like a spoilt brat. Of course, that probably had something to do with his proximity to Baker Town, a magnet for all things bratty and spoilt. "He's a sweet boy." he commented.

Raddy nodded as he went to light the stove. "Yes, he is."

"And me?" Gretel perked up in her seat on Red's lap. She had found the man's long braid as she'd sat there and listened quietly as the two adults had talked, and undone and re-done it several times, so she hadn't spoken until they had mentioned her brother. The girl looked between Red and Raddy, making hopeful eyes at them, waiting for an answer from either man.

Raddy laughed, while Red beamed at her.

"And you're sweet, too...as sweet as pie!" The brown fairy told her, walking away from the stove to pick her up, then spun them both around until she--giggling and shrieking with joy--begged to be put down. The Fae did, on the condition that she gave him a kiss and set the table, which she readily agreed to.

Noticing a lovely bowl full of apples on the kitchen counter, Red found himself offering to make an apple pie before he could even properly think of the consequences. Raddy paused in the middle of chopping up the potatoes, back straight and wings stiff at the suggestion. Red was mentally slapping himself on the forehead for saying such a stupid thing, to _Raddy_, of all people, when little Gretel threw up her arms in delight and cheered.

"Yaay! Uncle Raddy, can Uncle Red make an apple pie? That would be so yummy!"

Raddy's shoulders instantly relaxed and he turned his masked face to look down at the little girl, and there was a smile in his voice as he responded. "Of course he can. Why don't you help him peel the apples?"

"Yaay!" Gretel cheered again, and ran over to where Red was still sitting at the kitchen table to tug on his hand in order to get him to stand up. "C'mon, Uncle Red! Uncle Raddy said you could make pie!"

Red could feel his heart swelling in his chest at the adorable actions of the little girl, and allowed himself to be tugged over to the sink. He exchanged what he imagined was a smile with Raddy—he was smiling, anyway, and their eyes met for a moment through the slots in Raddy's mask, and everything was alright between the two once more, much to Red's relief.

Dinner preparations went quickly with Raddy's two willing helpers running to and fro to do exactly as they were asked. The pie was completed and removed from the oven just as the soup was ready to be served, so the four gathered once more around Raddy's kitchen table at a little after five-thirty in the afternoon to partake of the evening meal.

It was a very pleasant affair with the two children breaking what would have turned into a slightly awkward circumstance with their banter, often pulling the adults into taking part with the ongoing conversation in between bites. Red rarely ever felt at peace--even when he wasn't off saving princesses from horrible fates, he barely felt he had any real reason to be. He could feel relieved, yes, but never at peace.

It was cowardly of him, now that he thought of it, to use these two adorable children as shields from whatever inevitable conversation about the past that he and Raddy might have, but he did it anyway. It was in his nature to try and delay such things, if he could help it. Sure, _he_ had been the one to bring up the days of the past by mentioning that Azrael had randomly decided to drop in on him at his house to ask for a box of cookies, but he still did his best to avoid further discussion of the subject all together.

Once upon a time, there was a very beautiful princess who lived in the Kingdom of Saison, way up north. That princess had been one of the few friends he'd had in his childhood who he had spent any prolonged amount of time with. Her name was Snow White. Snow, Raddy, Azrael and himself had spent many a day getting into all sorts of messes, most of which had come about as they attempted to keep the dear girl out of trouble (which was harder than it ought to be, since the girl was extremely danger prone--moreso than any mortal girl ought to be, some said).

One day, his godmother had shown up out of the blue, as she was wont to doing, saying that she had a specific chore for him, though she was hesitant to divulge the details. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing on Red's part, but she eventually told him that he needed to deliver a package from Death to the Queen of Saison. Wondering a bit at his godmother's strange behavior over the distribution of what sounded like a fairly routine chore, Red had nevertheless taken on the job without so much as a bat of his eyes.

When he'd arrived at the castle in the land of eternal winter, he'd found it extremely odd that no one had been around to greet him. Azrael would, naturally, be in Abel as he was an elf--and a knight at that, one of the twelve who directly served the poor king of that thrice cursed kingdom. It wasn't unusual for Raddy to be absent either, as he preferred a more cozy and natural type of home--a tree house or cabin in a forest, for example. But for Snow White, who lived at the castle with her stepmother the Queen, to not rush out and tackle him in a hug right away? Strange indeed.

Red had delivered the package to the Queen without ceremony. He rarely ever got to meet with her, but from what he had heard from Raddy and Snow, the woman was 'wicked'. And by 'wicked', they both meant 'absolutely awesome'. She was a very kind mother to Raddy, and loved her stepdaughter to bits, fawning over her whenever she could. He had wondered at the time if maybe his friends were exaggerating just a bit, as the woman before him that day seemed as icy and cold as the snow that constantly fell in her kingdom.

Chore completed, Red had turned to leave with the thought of finding his friends and playing a bit before he returned home, but the Queen stopped him before he could go, saying that she had one more request to make of him.

"Young man...can you find me an apple?" she had asked, her voice as smooth as clean satin.

"An apple, my lady?" he'd responded, freckled face set in slight confusion.

She smiled, and it made him shiver involuntarily. "Yes, my child...the finest apple that you can find. Please bring it to me as soon as possible."

"But...whatever for?"

"Oh, don't you know? Snow's favorite fruit is apples...she loves them blood red, round and sweet...Wouldn't you like to find her one? I'm sure that she would appreciate the gift..."

Not knowing better at the time, Red had chosen to believe what the woman had said and posed no more questions, though somehow he hadn't felt quite right about what was going on. He had quietly nodded and gone on his way to the nearest town that sold apples. He had gone to several different vendors, of course, but found that he wasn't at all satisfied with the fruit that was available at the market stands. He had gone all the way to the farms on the other side of the mountains, down the river in order to find the perfect apple for his beloved friend Snow White...

And then...

"Uncle Raddy, may I have another glass of milk?"

Little Gretel interrupted Red's flashback with her request for more to drink, though Red was certainly not going to complain.

"Of course you may," Raddy responded, getting up even as he spoke to retrieve the requested beverage. Red glanced at his friend's plate and saw that it was completely empty, all portions of the very hearty soup and bread he knew the Fae had placed there gone. Blinking, he wondered how Raddy had managed to consume so much food, both without removing his mask and without Red noticing. He then shrugged and put the matter from his mind. He had more important things to worry about than how his friend ate while wearing a mask.

The dinner dishes were cleared away, and then dessert was served. Red blushed modestly as the little boy and girl, as well as their godfather, heaped praise upon him as they consumed the pie he'd baked. The children asked for and were granted second slices, but then the pie was wrapped up and put away.

"It will keep until tomorrow, and we'll have some more then," Raddy promised the children, who were watching him reproachfully as he tucked the pastry away in the upper shelves where the two couldn't reach.

Then the dinner dishes were washed and dried (Gretel helped Raddy wash, while Hansel helped Red dry), and Raddy prepared to make a quick trip down to the mill in order to retrieve Red's basket. When he opened the door to leave, however, he nearly tripped on an object that was sitting on the front step. Muffling a curse, the brown fairy bent down to examine the item, and discovered it to be a medium-sized wicker-work basket, much like the one he remembered Red carrying around in their younger years.

"Red?" he called, picking the basket up and bringing it in, closing the door quickly in order to keep the cold out and the warm in.

"Yes?" Red responded, poking his head into the entryway from the living room, which was where the fire was.

"I believe this is yours," Raddy said, a touch of laughter in his voice.

Red blinked and looked from Raddy to the basket in his hand, which he was proffering. "That was fast," he commented as he stepped into the entryway to accept the basket.

"Fast indeed. I didn't even leave the cabin," Raddy informed him, unknotting his scarf as he spoke. "Have you finally got the thing enchanted to follow you like Azrael always said you should?"

Red made a face. "No," he responded, flipping open the lid to check the contents. Even though he was half expecting it, he still experienced a surge of...something...in his gut when he caught sight of a slip of white paper tucked in on top of the red gingham cloth which covered the basket's contents.

"A note from a secret admirer?" Raddy teased as he drew it out to have a look. Red glared at him, which caused the brown fairy to laugh. He then very tactfully moved past Red and disappeared into the living room, eliciting shouts of joy from the children when they realized that their beloved godfather didn't have to go out after all.

Red unfolded the slip of paper and read it in the dim light of the entrance. Scrawled in a familiar spidery script were these words:

_Dearest Red,_

_  
It's gotten quite chilly out recently, hasn't it? Take care not to catch cold, and try not to enrage too many angry mobs between now and the New Year. It's bad for your health._

_Love always,_

_-Wolf_

Red snorted derisively and shoved the note into the pocket of his shorts. Wolf. He should have known. He turned to rejoin Raddy and the children in the warmth of the living room, but paused momentarily. Almost despite himself, he felt drawn to the door. Opening it just a tiny bit, he peeked out and glanced around the shadowy, frost-covered clearing in front of the cabin.

He saw nothing out of the ordinary, of course. He felt both surprised and disgusted at himself when he experienced a surge of disappointment. Honestly, what had he been expecting?

Drawing his head back inside, he shut the door and locked it firmly against the cold and the night. Dropping his basket off in the kitchen, he rejoined Raddy and the children in the warm living room, determined not to think about amber eyes and black leather any more that night.


	5. Special Circumstances

**CHAPTER 5**

Special Circumstances

"You know, I really do wonder how you could have dodged four falling chandeliers, two flying antique armchairs _and _a broken mannequin while totally wasted."

"Practice, Morgan...Practice."

Morgan von Verkoltenstein looked on in slight disgust at the man who was sprawled over the floor of the room usually reserved for the rehearsals of the Opera House's corps de ballet. Said floor was also strewn with several empty and near-empty bottles of various kinds of alcohol, ranging from simple bottled ale to flat whiskey. Wrinkling his nose, he picked up one of the bottles closest to him and studied its label, whistling at its age and alcohol content. He raised a fine brow at the man on the floor and none-too-gently kicked him in his side.

"Kristine is going to murder you, Wolf. Mark my words." the lithe man said, running a hand through his black hair, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Never mind whatever else she can do."

The silver-haired man looked blearily up at his ex-boyfriend. The man was letting him crash at his place--the Opera House in Ghost Town--despite the fact that the last time the two had parted company hadn't been in the best of spirits. He'd been shacked up there ever since he and Red had gone their separate ways at the end of July. He glared as mightily as he could at the offensively sexy man who was getting him up much too early for his taste. Then again, taking into account that he was still rather shit-faced, his mood wouldn't be too good at any time of the day.

"You know...if you weren't so good-looking I'd...I'd...you know...I don't know what I'd do." Wolf said, trying to sit up and failing miserably. Morgan snorted.

"And have you mobbed by my fan club? Sorry, but I don't particularly feel like cleaning up a corpse from the floor at the moment, thank you." he stated.

"You're so kind," Wolf responded sarcastically, trying to sit up once more. He was more successful this time around, though the action caused blood to rush to his skull and forced him to put his head between his knees until the stars left his vision.

"Kinder than you know," Morgan said dryly, crossing his arms as he looked down at the hung-over man sitting on the floor. "I even made you coffee, Kiwi only knows why,"

"It's because you're a kind and loving individual," Wolf grumbled, his voice somewhat muffled by his awkward position on the floor. "Why else would you stick around to be harassed day and night by that petulant harpy when you could just as easily go off and leave her to fend for herself?"

"Truer words were never spoken. I am somewhat of a martyr, aren't I?" Morgan asked, raising a hand to his breast and posing dramatically, though the effect was lost on Wolf, who was still staring at the floorboards between his feet.

"No, 'cause martyrs are only martyrs because they're dead," Wolf argued.

Morgan paused in his antics, looking thoughtful (and rather attractive, to boot...no man should look as sinfully beautiful as the youngest Verkoltenstein sibling did when he was thinking). Wolf saw, as he looked up, a wistful expression on the opera house owner's pale face, a rueful smile upon his lips. He sighed softly. "Yes, well...I'm sure quite a few people wished I had died in that fire."

Wolf glared at him. "You know...it's really not fair bringing that up to make me feel bad when I already feel like I've been trampled by a raging stampede of horny unicorns," he grumbled. He then began the task of trying to stand up--which he immediately regretted. Reaching out, Morgan caught him before he fell to the floor. "But _damn_ am I out of it."

"That's what you get for emptying the liquor cabinet." the other man replied with a roll of his visible eye, the other being covered by his long bangs, though it was presumed to be rolling along with its twin. "Come along...coffee and breakfast are a waiting." he told Wolf, half leading, half carrying his ex towards the kitchen. Wolf turned a shade of light green at the mention of food, and Morgan briefly wondered if he should just drop the wolfish man and let him fend for himself. He decided against it a moment later when he was forced to duck from a flying whisky bottle that had been lobbed from behind at his friend's head. No, in his hung-over state, without Morgan's intervention Wolf really might actually die. And for all their bickering and arguing, he rather liked Wolf, and preferred to keep him alive.

Morgan got Wolf to sit down at the table in the bright, cheerful kitchen and poured him a tall mug of steaming hot coffee. Wolf wrapped his hands gratefully around the warm cup, shivering slightly as he did so.

"Need a blanket?" Morgan asked, settling himself down across from Wolf with a cup of his own.

"Nah...I'll be fine once I drink this," Wolf replied, matching actions to words and bringing the mug to his lips, blowing on the surface of the hot liquid before carefully taking a sip. "Ahh...you make the best coffee, Morgan, have I ever told you?"

Morgan smirked, a spark of good humor shining in his one visible eye. "Only every time I help you nurse your hangovers. You really need to stop getting drunk and get laid, my friend," he said, taking a judicious sip from his own cup.

"I told you, I can't just..._do it_ anymore," Wolf muttered, shooting a bloodshot glare at Morgan from over the top of his cup.

"Getting old, are we?" Morgan teased, setting his cup down on the table and propping his chin in his hand.

"No older than you," Wolf growled, taking another sip of his coffee. It was still slightly too hot to gulp, much to his chagrin. He felt he could really use the caffeine.

Ah, but you forget, Wolf-boy...I am still in my prime...and will be for the next little while." Morgan said.

"Emphasis on _little_."

"Mmm-hmmm..."

Conversations like these were very common between the two, and they tended to fall into the same pattern and topics. The way they spoke to one another could be compared to the way actors interact within a play. It was a well rehearsed show, and it was certainly one they would never tire of performing again and again, no matter the amount of pains either endured...most of the time. One could only pretend a light fixture that weighed over a hundred pounds falling from the ceiling at high velocities was funny the first four or five times it happened. It just got repetitive (and _painfully_ costly), after a while.

"So, my dear man...what's brought on the sudden onslaught against my pocketbook?" the opera house owner inquired, standing up from his seat to go over to the stove where he had left the eggs and bacon with toast waiting for them. He picked up the plates and set one in front of Wolf before taking his seat again, already chewing on a piece of bacon.

Instead of answering him, the older man plucked the remaining piece of fried pork from his friend's lips and placed it into his own mouth, chewing smugly. "Careful, Morgan. Wouldn't want you to lose that girly figure of yours that the ladies love so much."

Morgan glared at him and picked up the remaining strip of bacon from his plate and crammed the whole thing into his mouth at once. "Bas'sard," he mumbled around the crunchy, salty meat. "Speak for yourself," he retorted, once he'd swallowed. "I'm positive I saw you looking a wee bit soft around the tum last I saw you without your shirt, Wolf-me-lad. You're only supposed to let yourself go _after_ you've caught a bride, not before." Smirking, Morgan took a bite of his toast and waited for Wolf to respond. He was somewhat surprised when Wolf didn't let off with a snarky comeback as he'd expected, but merely sighed as he cut up his eggs with his fork.

"Oi," he said, trying to catch his friend's attention. Wolf glanced up from his plate briefly, then looked back down at his food, and didn't respond. "Oi!" Morgan said, louder than before. Wolf merely picked up a piece of bacon and put it his mouth, biting off a bit and chewing it while holding the rest with his lips, and continuing to ignore Morgan. The owner of the opera house was not used to being ignored—he slammed his hand down on the table and stood up, leaning over and down he snatched the bacon dangling from Wolf's lips with his mouth, kissing his friend in the process.

Somewhere nearby, a loud explosion sounded.

"Sonnova..." Morgan cursed, turning his head to the source of the noise.

Whatever had exploded had created a cloud of dark smoke, which billowed menacingly into the kitchen, like a fog that was rolling in. Both men rolled their eyes at the melodrama of it all and quietly continued eating their breakfast until a shadow began to emerge from within the smoke, like a ship coming in on a foggy night. Neither male moved to acknowledge the bizarre phenomenon, continuing with consuming their breakfast as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. They knew that if they didn't eat now, they wouldn't be able to later.

"Oh, Wolf...how kind of you to join us this morning..." simpered a soprano's voice. A hand reached out and roughly grabbed the silver-haired man by the collar of his shirt, bringing him face-to-face with the woman responsible for most of the daily collateral damage done to the Opera House.

Kristine Hammond: The leading lady in most of the productions; a beautiful and brutal brunette who had had designs on the original proprietor of the Opera House, Morgan's older brother Erik von Verkoltenstein, and who was beginning to show signs of a more advanced age. It wasn't a surprise really, as the woman usually wore a look of utter psychosis whenever someone got too close to her former lover's younger sibling--which was a good percentage of the time. Ever since the fire (which had started under rather mysterious circumstances) that had claimed Erik's life and a portion of Morgan's face, the singer had become extremely protective of the young man and would snap at almost anyone who so much as said a word to him.

"I do hope you're not doing anything inappropriate with him, Wolf..." Kristine said, holding onto Wolf very firmly--almost enough to choke him. "You know that he's of a class higher than yours..."

Wolf privately wondered what his esteemed father would make of that particular remark, but let it slide. As nonchalantly as he could, considering he was mere centimeters away from being choked, he brought the last of his toast to his lips and popped it into his mouth, chewing carelessly and flicking small crumbs onto Kristine's face. This had the desired effect of making the woman let go of him and back away in disgust, which caused Wolf to smirk.

"I wasn't doing anything at all, my dear," Wolf said condescendingly around his toast, purposefully talking with his mouth full to further disgust the annoying woman. "You might ask Morgan what _he_ was doing, however, since you're taking such an interest in the lad's private life."

He was amused when the woman's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. "How _dare_ you!" she all but screeched, drawing herself up to her full if diminutive height and glaring down at Wolf in what she imagined to be an impressive, frightful manner. He finished chewing his toast and swallowed, then reached for his coffee cup and drained it with a couple good swallows. He glanced at Morgan to see if his friend was getting ready to step in, as he usually did, and was annoyed when he saw the man was finishing his own breakfast and acting like nothing was happening. Wolf cleared his throat significantly.

Morgan shot his friend and ex-boyfriend a look that distinctly said, 'What? Me help? Screw that.'

Wolf shot back a glare that shouted, 'Help me, damn you!'

Morgan raised an eyebrow. 'Why should I?' that brow mocked along with the smirk that formed on the man's pink lips. (For the record, those smirking lips were saying 'Look how sexy I am!')

Wolf couldn't decide right then if he wanted to kiss his friend or smack him across his too-pretty face. In the end, he did neither of these things, and stood up from the table instead, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he did so.

"Thanks for breakfast, Morgan," he said as he strode from the kitchen, causing Kristine to squeak and jump out of his way as he brushed past her and into the hall.

"You're welcome...Hey! Where are you going!?" Morgan demanded, surprised.

When Wolf didn't answer, he got to his feet and followed, leaving a confused and surprised Kristine alone in the kitchen. She didn't remain that way for long, however, and gathered her long skirts about her and followed, fuming all the way.

"Oi! Wolf!" Morgan called, striding quickly to catch up with his friend. When Wolf didn't respond, he grabbed him by the wrist, forcing him to turn around.

"You disgusting, vile beast! Unhand Morgan at once!" Kristine shouted from down the hall. Morgan winced and let go of Wolf, who tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers and smiled in understanding.

"Sorry," Morgan muttered. Wolf shrugged. "Now, _where_ on earth do you think you're going? You have that..._look_ about you," the slim man continued, staring Wolf straight in the eyes.

Wolf shrugged again. "I'm getting the feeling I've overstayed my welcome a bit—"

Morgan started to protest, but was overpowered when Kristine, still lurking at the end of the hall, shouted, "Too right!"

Wolf rolled his eyes. "Besides, I'm starting to feel antsy. I haven't seen Red in months now..."

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "When are you going to forget that one-sided love, Wolf? You've been going on about this Red for ten years now, and never once have you gotten any reward for your devotion. If you ask me—"

"I didn't," Wolf interrupted, because he knew what was coming.

"I don't think this Red deserves you," Morgan finished, despite the look of warning on Wolf's face. "You should just forget him, and find yourself a nice someone who will love you as much as you do them. There are loads of lads and lasses out there who would be thrilled to be your partner—"

"That's enough," Wolf interrupted again, his eyes narrowed.

Morgan knew his friend's moods well enough to know when to shut up, so he did. But he didn't let the matter drop.

"Look," he said, when Wolf started walking towards the exit once more. "If you're going to go, fine, but at least wait until tomorrow. Come out with me tonight. We'll—" he ducked along with Wolf, practically without thinking about it, in order to avoid the barrage of prop swords that suddenly and without warning clattered down from the ceiling. "We'll grab some dinner, hit up a few bars, gamble to our heart's delight—" Wolf stopped walking abruptly and Morgan nearly plowed into him from behind before he could stop himself. The two waited as a heavy suit of decorative armor tipped over and smashed to the ground right where Wolf would have been had he continued forward. Once the ruckus died down, Wolf began walking once more, stepping over the fallen suit of armor as though there was nothing out of the ordinary, with Morgan following right behind him, picking up where he had left off. "Come on, Wolf, we haven't seen each other in years, and now you're talking about leaving without allowing me the chance to give you a proper farewell!"

Wolf paused in his stride towards the door briefly, and then backed up suddenly, grabbing Morgan as he went and pressing the pair of them flat against the wall. Mere seconds later a heavy marble bust of some long-dead composer came hurtling straight along the hall as though it had been fired from a canon.

"She's getting careless," Wolf remarked idly as the bust shattered into a million pieces on the floor some distance hence, doing quite a bit of damage to the wooden paneling in that area as well. "That could've hit you."

"Would not have!" Kristine's voice floated down to them from some hidden alcove, sounding petulant and childish. Wolf snorted softly and Morgan briefly cradled his forehead in his hand, weary of Kristine's constant murder attempts.

"Well, Wolf? What do you say?" the opera house owner asked when the silver-haired man didn't seem to show much inclination to continue on his way to the exit.

Wolf stood there, taking what the other man had said into consideration. On the one hand, Morgan was indeed correct: it would be pretty awful of him to just get up and leave without so much as a considerate good-bye (which traditionally consisted of booze, more booze, strip poker--with Morgan winning almost every other hand--and hitting on any good-looking folks in the nearby vicinity; neither Wolf nor Morgan was picky about gender).

On the other hand, though, Wolf very much wanted to live long enough to see his grandchildren, and did not particularly relish the idea of having 'killed by rather large bust' inscribed on his tombstone (which brought to mind a mildly perverted thought about dying via bosom suffocation).

Seeing that the man was beginning to lean towards fleeing for his life, Morgan moved closer, wrapping his arms around Wolf's waist and holding him tight. Ignoring the shouts of the psychotic soprano that called for them to cease and desist immediately, if not sooner, the smaller man tilted his head up to whisper faintly in a tone that sent titillating shivers down Wolf's spine.

"I can get rid of Kristine for the night."

Wolf shivered again, _almost_ tempted to go down on Morgan right then and there, but a falling pot full of pansies (Apple only knew where _those_ had come from) brought him back to reality. He gently pushed his friend away before he regretted the action he would eventually take while within close proximity of Kristine.

"And how do you propose to pull off that particular miracle?" he growled, fighting back the heat coming to his face--as well as other parts of his body.

Morgan smirked a very evil smirk. "Just leave it to me." Giving a sweeping bow, he disappeared in the blink of an eye--like a phantom in his favorite haunt.

Wolf snorted. "Show-off."

The man had no choice, then, but to wait out whatever dastardly plan the opera manager had in mind for his constant stalker and self-proclaimed protector.

---------------

"Take it off, Wolf."

"Wanna see me dance?"

"You're drunk,"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Please just...take it off." 

Wolf shimmied his hips about in a fair imitation of sexiness, though it was spoiled somewhat by the drunken stagger he segued into a moment later.

"I take it back," Morgan said, trying not to laugh and mostly succeeding. "You're not drunk. You're _wasted,"_

"Jus' like you like," Wolf agreed, winking in Morgan's general direction. He was having trouble seeing clearly, but that was alright, because he felt _good._

"Wolf, I really do insist you remove the jacket. It looks utterly ridiculous on you," Morgan said, unable to keep from smiling at his friend's antics.

"Even when I do...this?" Wolf asked, reaching up and beginning to unbutton the aforesaid jacket as enticingly as he could. Morgan muffled his laughter once more as Wolf made several failed attempts to undo the buttons he'd done up easily enough just a few minutes ago.

"_Especially_ when you do that," he said, in order to keep up with their usual exchange of friendly insults.

"Fine. _You_ try, and see if _you_ can do any better," Wolf said, putting his hands on his hips and glaring drunkenly at Morgan.

"_More_ than happy to," the slim man said with a smirk, rising from his seat and making his way over to where his friend was standing by the piles of discarded costumes and open chests in which those costumes normally resided.

The two had returned to the Opera House after a very enjoyable night out, though there had been a brief spot of trouble later on in the evening when a pair of dancers had attached themselves to the two men. Though the female company had not been entirely unwelcome, it had been rather annoying when the two women had not taken the hint later on that neither man was interested in spending the rest of the night with either of them. It had taken a particularly long session of making out with each other to prove to the women that Wolf and Morgan had little interest in their offered companionship that night, and would be returning home together, without them. It had seemed almost like old times, though Morgan had been acutely aware of some small change in his companion, some reluctance that hadn't been there before. It had puzzled him somewhat, and he wondered if it had anything to do with his friend's claim that he was a one-man man now.

When he stood in front of Wolf he first let out a soft sigh, which spoke of annoyance and amused routine, before reaching out to gently push the first golden button out of its fasten. He did the same for several of the others, wondering why his companion had chosen such a tacky red military jacket of all things, with so many buttons and useless little bangles and fasteners. True, the actor who had originally worn the garment for a play about two male lovers had had a habit of being overly active during rehearsals and shows, so the costumers had had to make sure he wouldn't be able shed the damn thing as easily as he was wont to do with costumes made for him--but honestly! It was a miracle they'd been able to get the jacket off in time for a costume change during their plays...

The fact that Wolf was beginning to become restless was not helping Morgan's case either. The taller man's hands began to wander aimlessly, distracting the opera resident from the task of removing the jacket from his friend's person, as he had to smack those hands away several times to prevent them from getting anywhere too personal. It got to the point where he had to take some rather drastic measures.

"Hold still!" he ordered. "I want this monstrosity off of you this minute. Red is _not_ your color..." Morgan snarled, showing an emotion other than his usual cool nonchalance. Wolf chuckled and suddenly engulfed the smaller man with his taller (and heavier) form, arms firmly wrapped round the other's waist and hands roaming freely.

"You're so pretty, Morgy-worgy..."

Disgusted, the dark haired man roughly shoved Wolf away from him, watching with no remorse as he toppled over onto a pile of clothes. As an afterthought, he got down and straddled the silver haired man's waist, pinning down the other's arms with his knees in an effort to keep him from squirming as he finished his task.

"Hey, Mooooorgan...?"

Morgan sighed, wondering if letting Wolf drink himself into a stupor tonight had been such a good idea after all. Then again, he wasn't moping, so he supposed that the depletion of the wine cellar and the emptying of his wallet were well worth it. The sadistic part of him abstractedly wondered if the older man would remember any of this in the morning...it would be fun to lord it over him...

"What?" he intoned, sounding clearly repulsed.

"You look like Red like this..."

Silence.

"...What did you say?"

"You look like Red," Wolf repeated himself, slightly louder than before, as he apparently thought Morgan hadn't heard him because he'd been mumbling. "Kinda," he amended, giving Morgan's rear a playful squeeze. Morgan leapt to his feet with an indignant yell. "Tha's not like Red's at all," Wolf informed him, smiling peacefully up at him from his bed of crumpled costumes.

"What in the seven hells made you do that!?" Morgan demanded, glaring down at his drunken friend.

Wolf looked puzzled. "You were sittin' on toppa me...Thought you wanted to...you know," he trailed off lamely. "Not that I would've," he continued almost immediately. "Can only do _tha_' with Red..." he trailed off again.

"Oh for the love of _Kiwi_—" Morgan began, but stopped when he caught sight of Wolf's face. No longer happily blurred, his expression had shifted to that of drunken depression. Not wanting Morgan to see him look like that, Wolf rolled over onto his side and covered his face with his hands, moaning slightly as he went.

"...Wolf?" Morgan asked moving closer in concern. When he got no response, he knelt down next to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy...why don't we change the subject? We can talk about something else," he suggested, his voice kind. Wolf's only response was to curl his legs in, working himself into the fetal position. Morgan didn't know how to respond to that. He stared down at his friend in confusion for several minutes, before coming to a decision. He sat down next to Wolf in the pile of clothes and drew his knees up to his chin. The two remained quietly like this for a while, until Wolf mumbled something that Morgan couldn't quite hear.

"What was that, my dear?" he asked gently, placing a careful hand on Wolf's shoulder.

"Red hates me," he groaned, voice muffled behind his hands.

Morgan was startled by the declaration. He had surmised, from what Wolf had been willing to tell him, that the two didn't get along all that famously, but he'd never thought Red _really_ hated his friend.

"No he doesn't," Morgan felt compelled to say. What else was there _to_ say, especially seeing as he had never met Red?

"He _does,_" Wolf insisted. "He really does," he repeated, sounding almost incredulous.

"What makes you think that?" Morgan asked softly, stroking Wolf's arm in what he hoped was a comforting fashion.

"At the masq'rade...in Tempus," Wolf said, sounding vaguely impatient, as though he were explaining something Morgan should already know. "We kissed..._he_ kissed _me_, but then..." he trailed off once more into silence, leaving Morgan stunned. He'd certainly never heard _this_ before! He waited quietly, continuing to stroke Wolf's arm encouragingly, and eventually Wolf continued. Morgan listened quietly as his friend explained what had happened in his disjointed, drunken manner.

"An' now he hates me," Wolf concluded, a short while later. Morgan's hand had come to rest on Wolf's shoulder, which he now squeezed.

"I think you're exaggerating," he finally said, after the silence had stretched between them for several minutes.

"No 'm not," Wolf said sullenly.

"Oh, but you are." Morgan insisted, forcing a note of cheerfulness into his voice.

"Am not," Wolf repeated.

"Are so," Morgan responded, poking him in the side. "Do you want to know why I think so?"

Wolf squirmed in an attempt to get away from Morgan's prodding finger and didn't answer.

"It's because," Morgan began, leaning over Wolf and preventing him from rolling any further away, "No one in possession of their right mind could _possibly_ hate you, and I know you're a very sensible man who wouldn't go falling in love with somebody _not_ in possession of his right mind," he explained patiently.

Wolf didn't respond to this, and Morgan leaned closer to his face, trying to see if he could get a peek at the man's expression through his fingers. He was just backing away in defeat when Wolf removed his hands from his face and wrapped them around Morgan's waist. He dragged the surprised and indignant man down so that he was half-laying on top of him, and gave him a hug.

"Thanks, Morgan," he whispered into Morgan's ear. Morgan smiled and wrapped his arms as best he could around Wolf to return the hug. He went to pull away a moment later, but found, much to his irritation, that Wolf didn't seem to want to let go.

A blush came onto the Morgan's cheeks, but he ignored it and grumbled something, trying to get out from Wolf's embrace. The man holding him had other plans, however, and managed to maneuver them around on the pile of clothes so that he was on top and Morgan—looking completely scandalized—was pressed between him and the costume pile.

"The hell do you think you're doing, man?!" Morgan demanded, struggling to get out from under the inebriated Wolf. He was a good friend, a cool ex and one hell of a drinking buddy, but there was no way he was going to condone anything involving drunken comfort sex after what the man had just told him. He went stock still as one of Wolf's arms moved up, and feared that he would have to give the man a swift knee to the groin to distract him, but found that the searching arm was not going anywhere too intimate.

He was still shocked to find that Wolf had cupped the left side of his face.

The two of them lay like that for a while. Morgan stayed rigid, staring up at Wolf who looked down on him, so relaxed though their faces were mere inches apart--a thought that would have normally alarmed the man, had he been in a proper mindset.

"Hey...wha' ever 'appen' ta...the Wicked Witch o' the Op'ra?" Wolf asked out of the blue.

Morgan blinked. "Huh?"

Wolf heaved an impatient sighed. "Ya know...the Psycho Soprano? Crazy lady...likes you...drops stuff..." The man underneath him continued to look confused for a few more moments before all the pieces fell into place.

"You want to know what I did with her, right?" the theatre owner asked, breathing out a sigh of relief. It looked like he was safe from any awkward circumstances for he moment, but he would have to be careful so he didn't want to set Wolf off again. "Well, I didn't really do much...I just tied her up to one of the chandeliers in the main hall with iron chains, is all--gagged her, too, for good measure."

Wolf giggled at this, which made Morgan roll his eyes.

"Hey, Morgy-worgy...ya really gained weight...you're all...soft and stuff..." the older man blurted out all of a sudden, beginning to snuggle up to his trapped companion. The indignant male under him squirmed and flailed about, doing his best to get away.

"Morgan, I love you." the silver haired man said, moving away the bangs that kept half of the aristocrat's face hidden and kissing that half gently, before giving the man a sort of goofy grin.

Morgan froze.

Wolf, blissfully unaware of the significance of what he had just said and done, simply cuddled up against his ex-boyfriend, and, without a second thought, fell into a peaceful drunken sleep.

The dark-haired man lay there for a while as his companion began to snore softly, thinking deeply about how everything had just spiraled downwards into this mess (figuratively and literally). He really didn't dwell on it for too long, however, as he was feeling rather sleepy himself. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around Wolf, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the older male.

"Idiot." he whispered. After a while, he too drifted off to sleep.

-------------

The next morning the two men were awoken abruptly by a loud crash and a soprano wail that would have made a banshee proud. Morgan cursed colorfully as he stood, brushing his hair into some semblance of order with his hands as he did so, while Wolf sat up more carefully, wary of the slight headache he'd woken with. Once he had blinked the sleep from his eyes, he looked down at himself and groaned.

"Morgan...what the hell am I wearing?" he asked, even as he fumbled to undo the remaining buttons.

Morgan turned to him and smirked, shoving memories of the previous evening to the back of his mind as he did so. "You seemed happy enough to wear it last night..." he said, trailing off and wagging his eyebrows in a flirtatious manner.

Wolf groaned again, and pulled the jacket off, throwing it onto the wrinkled pile of clothes that had been their bed. "I must have been _really_ drunk," he said, chagrined.

"You were _plastered_," Morgan elaborated gleefully, smirking down at the man who still sat on the floor.

Wolf grunted and climbed slowly to his feet, taking his time to prevent a rush of blood to his head. "And where were you while I was drinking your wallet empty?" Wolf inquired once he was standing up straight.

"Helping...a little. Unlike some folks, _I_ know when I've hit my limit," Morgan explained.

Wolf was about to respond, when he was interrupted by a loud shriek.

"MORGAAAAAN! MORGAN, WHERE _ARE_ YOU!?"

Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes. Smiling patiently, he held out his hand to his friend. "Shall we?" he asked.

Wolf grinned and took the proffered hand, standing up with the support of one of the best friends he ever had (and he could count every single one of those on both of his hands). "I'd be very insulted if we didn't." he answered with a small flourish of his free hand. Still holding Morgan's hand, he made a mad spring for the exit with his friend in tow.

The two made quick work of getting out of the Opera House, deftly eluding Kristine's every attempt to separate them from one another with the ease of long practice. Although they had to thank the heavy burden that was half a broken chandelier and several heavy chains that slowed the soprano down in her wild fury. By the time they did get outside, both were panting just a bit, though they were more excited than afraid.

The Opera House was located within the city known deceivingly as 'Ghost Town'. It had once been a rundown little village in Tempus Kingdom overrun with ghosts, ghouls and several unsavory denizens of the dark (such as vampires, lycanthropes and the occasional door-to-door salesdevil), but after sicing a band of hired heroes upon the place and getting it cleared of all its undesirable tenants, the royal family of Tempus had decided to remodel the little town into a tourist trap filled with high-end entertainment, gambling, and booze. The only plot of land not owned by Tempus had spanned the ten mile radius around the Opera House, which was owned and managed by one of the noble families of the Kingdom of Saison (said family being the von Verkoltensteins).

The air was crisp and cool, and smelled with a hint of freshly fallen leaves. The sky was lightening up from dark velvet to a light azure as the sun made its daily appearance in the east. Overhead a flock of birds could be seen heading towards warmer climates, foretelling of the winter to come. A cool breeze picked up their hair (which annoyed Morgan and refreshed Wolf) and fanned their sweaty brows.

Wolf let himself fall onto the grassy ground, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Morgan sat down in a quieter and much more dignified manner.

"Well, we certainly lost her." Wolf stated, looking up to the sky. "...Wonder how long it'll take for her to get out all the way here." He gave a curt laugh, making his companion wonder if he was still a bit drunk, or if his hangover was affecting his brain more than usual. "At least we're outside. I don't think that crazy lady's gonna drop anything on us out here..."

"Oh, you'd be surprised how creative she can be." Morgan warned, though he looked about as serious as a choir boy singing the word 'bosom' in the middle of a song rehearsal. "I'm sure she can think of something to get you with..."

"I don't doubt it."

Silence fell after that, stretching between the two friends until it became rather awkward. Now that he no longer had adrenaline rushing through his veins, thoughts of the night before were appearing in the young aristocrat's mind. His cheeks began to turn pink and he had to turn away when Wolf turned to face him, opening his mouth to ask a question. Not looking at his friend, Morgan cut him off before he could speak.

"So...what are you going to do now?" he asked, trying to sound offhand. Wolf blinked at his ex's behavior, but shrugged it off in order to respond to his question.

"You really have to ask?" the silver haired man said by way of reply, sounding like he was talking to a confused child who was asking about whether or not the Tooth Fairy was real (which she wasn't, as far as Wolf knew). "I'll be...going after Red again." he said with conviction.

"He'll only hate you for it...why not stay with someone who appreciates you?"

"Like you?"

Morgan stared at Wolf; Wolf gazed back sagely--an expression rarely ever executed by the wandering man; it looked out of place on his face, which was usually schooled into a well-cultivated all-knowing smirk. The dark haired man didn't quite know what to say to that really, so his friend took the chance to speak his mind--as muddled as it was after drinking the night prior and then having to run for his life right after awakening.

"You know...you and I...it would never work." Wolf told his friend.

"Doesn't mean I can't feel unhappy for you."

"Why should you feel that?" Wolf asked, somewhat surprised.

Morgan shrugged, fixing his gaze upon a far distant clump of forest rather than look at the other man. "I can't help but think you can't possibly be very happy most of the time...And when my friends are unhappy, so am I," he said matter-of-factly.

"What makes you think I'm unhappy?" Wolf asked, glancing at his friend with a small amount of suspicion.

Morgan finally turned his head slightly to meet Wolf's gaze, a smug expression on his face. "You don't remember much of what you said last night, do you?"

"What I..." Wolf looked thoughtful for a moment, then alarmed. "What did I say last night?" he demanded, sitting up straight and leaning towards Morgan in his urgency.

Morgan contemplated what he could, should, and would say to his best friend. He closed his eyes for a moment, once again recalling nearly every single detail from last night's escapades in the costume room. He fought an oncoming blush as he pondered on his next course of action. Should he be honest and totally mortify Wolf? Or make up a little white lie to save them both face? The opera house owner was quite sure that bad reactions would happen all around no matter what he did, so he decided upon a middle road.

He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, nothing...nothing at all..." the aristocrat said, oh so nonchalantly as he waved a dismissive hand."You only said that you loved me and that we should elope, have ten children and name them all after variants of the color red. You also confessed something about pretty unicorns and virgins and 'oh, why can't I be loved like them'...You also almost died via bad taste. I honestly thought that I was going to choke from laughter when you put that red jacket on...And the funny little strip dance you tried to do--if that wasn't a cry for help then--"

"Alright! Alright! I get it!" Wolf cried, sounding exasperated. "Don't tell me! I don't care! In fact, I'm probably happier not knowing, aren't I?"

Morgan leaned back on his hands and contemplated the sky, which was becoming a very lovely shade of blue as the sun continued to rise. "Probably," he agreed easily. "Don't worry," he continued, glancing over to Wolf as he assured him. "It's not like I have the pressing urge to run off all over creation and soil your good name with my newfound knowledge."

Wolf muttered something obscene and unflattering under his breath.

"What was that?" Morgan asked playfully, leaning closer to the sullen man. "I didn't quite catch that!"

"I _said_: 'I hope whoever you end up with has a tongue twice as sharp as yours and a personality to match' is all." the older man ground out, his teeth clenched to prevent himself from grinding them as he kept himself in check. Knowing he would get some sort of scathing remark in return, Wolf began to formulate a retort in advance. However, Morgan chose to surprise him by gently saying something else.

"Nah. She's really...cute, in her own special way." the young man said wistfully, though a sincerely content smile bloomed on his lips. He had a faraway look in his brown eyes that Wolf could identify with very easily. "When I'm around her...I'm happy...so happy I could just die."

Silence.

"...It's not..._Kristine_, is it?" Wolf asked finally, looking incredibly horrified at the notion. Morgan glared daggers at him.

"_Hells_ no." he snapped, his moment of blissful contemplation shattered.

"Thank Kiwi. And Apple. In fact...thank Irony."

Morgan raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Why?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be more ironic if I ended up with--"

"Don't tempt them, Morgy. They're watching us."

"Riiiight..." the dark-haired man said, wondering if all that alcohol had finally fried his friend's brain. He shifted his position on the ground, trying to get more comfortable, but then quickly tried to stand up when he felt Wolf's hand fall upon his. He felt the older man grasp onto him firmly before pulling him in for a rather strong hug that nearly knocked the wind right of his thin body. "Whoa, there, Wolf! What's--ow!!" He was abruptly cut off when the other man decided that a noogie was in order and roughly rubbed his knuckles against his head.

"Aw...My little Morgy's growing up!" he said, this time grinning as his friend suffered. "Y'know...you're full of surprises...never thought you'd wanna settle down...and with a _woman_, no less..."

"Well, she's the one--so shut up about it and get. Off. Me. _Now_."

Wolf snickered mirthfully, but released Morgan as he requested. The small man glared at his larger friend, reaching up a hand to smooth his hair as he did so.

Wolf settled back once more, leaning back on his hands and arranging his long legs in front of him. Quietly, he looked up at the sky, feeling far more content than he had in a while. Morgan scooted a bit closer to his friend and tucked his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs, shivering slightly in the chill of the early morning.

"It's kind of cold, huh?" Wolf commented idly after a few minutes of silence.

"Just a bit," Morgan agreed, muffling a yawn.

The pair sat quietly for a few minutes more, before Wolf spoke up again.

"I'd probably better grab my jacket and get going..."

"Aw, but we were having so much fun! Stay for a while longer?" Morgan said, turning to pout cutely at his friend. But Wolf stayed strong and adamant in his decision, standing up and beginning to walk away in case his friend attempted to charm him into giving in to his demands. It was really amazing sometimes how easily the aristocrat could just get his way all the time--it was kind of scary too, now that he thought about it.

"Nope...It's nearly November. I've been away from Red long enough." he stated simply. He stopped once and cast a smirk over his shoulder at the man who was now struggling to get up to follow him. "He needs me...just as I think your lady friend would need you if she were ever in a crisis." He laughed as Morgan went pink and, as a consequence, had to dodge a punch to the face, but he thought the sight of an embarrassed von Verkoltenstein was well worth the violence.

"You know I'm right." Wolf sang playfully.

"Shut up."

Wolf tsked. "Now, now, is that any way to talk to a friend?" he asked, wagging a finger playfully at Morgan, who scowled and crossed his arms. After a brief moment, though, his face brightened.

"So you'll uh...be leaving your jacket with me, then?" he asked, smiling pleasantly. As soon as he said that, Wolf realized properly that his precious leather coat, which he never went anywhere without, was still hanging neatly in Morgan's wardrobe (one of the few locations in the entire opera house Kristine would never dare invade).

"...Bugger," he muttered, scowling fiercely and turning to look thoughtfully in the direction of the Opera House. Morgan watched the internal struggle play out on his friend's expressive face, grinning like a loon. He did so love it when he was able to flummox Wolf like this. Finally, the silver-haired man sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"It was a nice jacket...I'm sure going to have a hell of a time replacing it..."

Morgan blinked. That wasn't what he had expected Wolf to say at all. "You're joking, right?" he asked.

Wolf looked at him for several moments, his face perfectly straight, before he couldn't stand it any more and grinned. "Yeah, I'm joking. Please come with me and defend me from your pet harpy, O noble and wonderful Morgan," Wolf said, even as he began walking in the direction of the Opera House.

Morgan snorted in amusement, but couldn't help grinning back. "Only for you, you studly, gorgeous man," he responded, hooking his arm through Wolf's. Together, the two walked arm in arm back into the proverbial lion's den.

"You think it's smart to be walking in like this?" Wolf asked, looking at their linked arms.

"Well...it's _only_ Kristine...at least she hasn't alerted my fan club to her cause just yet."

Wolf snorted. "Good point."


	6. The Return of the Filler

**CHAPTER 6**

The Return of the Filler

Red awoke early the next morning feeling incredibly relaxed and content. He figured it probably had something to do with the two warm, small little bodies which were curled up on either side of him in the narrow twin bed Raddy had loaned him for the night. He could feel the maternal (or was it paternal? He was never really sure) warmth welling up in his chest as he realized that Hansel and Gretel had both crawled into his bed last night after he'd gone to sleep. He was sorely tempted to steal them both away and raise them from then on as his own, but he fought down the urge. Loathe as he was to admit it, his life was too tumultuous at this point for him to even think of adopting one child, let alone two. Not only that, but he really didn't want to attempt to raise a child (or two, or three, or half a dozen) without a suitable partner at his side, one who loved children at least as much as he did.

No, for now he knew that it was wisest to refrain from adopting, no matter how much he wanted to...

Sighing slightly, he began squirming his way out from between the two slumbering children, doing his best to keep from waking them. He managed to get out of the bed with little problem, though once he made for the bedroom door, he felt a sharp tug on his hair. Turning quickly, he looked down at the young ones in the bed and saw that they were both still asleep, but that Gretel had her small hand wrapped tightly around the end of his braid. Nearly overwhelmed by the adorable way she clung to his hair, he nevertheless bent down and gently pried her fingers away from their prize.

With his hair once more completely in his possession, Red tiptoed out of the small bedroom and made his way into the kitchen. He was pleased to see that Raddy was not yet up and about, or, if he was, that he had not begun preparing breakfast, because this morning, that was exactly what Red wanted to do. He pondered briefly as he rifled through the cupboards, inspecting the contents, and then smiled, for he knew what he was going to do:

He was going to make pancakes.

---------------

Robert prided himself on being one of the best man-servants around. He was friendly, courteous, well-mannered and, despite everything that went on around him most of the time, able to accept and adore his master for who and what he was. Their friendship since early childhood had spurred the man to pursue the same occupation as his father before him. He would serve no other person, except for Victor von Verkoltenstein.

Of course, there were times when he wished he had decided to serve his master's younger sibling, Morgan, instead. Surely the child was more sensible than his older brother...right? At least he knew how to properly go about courting someone...Robert assumed.

Victor's idea of asking for a woman's hand in marriage was to abuse his powers as the Count of Maple Town by having his soldiers remove the poor woman from her home, lock her up in one of the dustiest rooms in the basement, and then demand the impossible of her while informing her that if she didn't, her life belonged to him. To anyone with an ounce of common sense, this translated to 'on pain of death'. However, Victor being Victor, all it really meant that if she failed she would be forced into marriage with him...all without her seeing or speaking with him about it beforehand.

Of course, Robert reminded his master that not everyone had as unique a thought process as he did, so, therefore, had to make sure that Hannah _did_ manage to do the impossible, or people were going to expect him to really off her.

Robert adored his master. He really did. He just wished that he wouldn't try so hard to live up to his older brother's name (and it had been a very illustrious one, at that). Though Victor didn't know it, his manservant kept a rather close eye on his activities, and Robert knew that his master had been traipsing around with his white half-mask, singing horribly at ungodly hours and breaking countless windows in the process (as well as many, many houses and whatever poor, wandering person happened within earshot of him). But he had no say in whatever his master decided to do. After all, he was just a servant; someone to cater to his master's every whim...

...Even if some of those whims left him unable to walk properly and with his backside smarting for a good three nights afterwards.

Still, hard feelings aside, he had a duty to do. And that duty, right now, was to make sure that the miller girl had done what had been asked of her. Of course, he knew that she wouldn't have. No ordinary human being in Robert's knowledge held the power to spin straw to gold...so it was his responsibility to remove the straw and replace it with gold as the woman slept.

To his utter surprise when he went down to check up on her the morning after her first night of imprisonment, he found the gold he'd brought along with him to swap with the straw had become unnecessary, as the young woman was sleeping peacefully beside a pile of very fine, but nevertheless inexplicably real gold.

Robert contemplated the scene for several minutes, thinking. Finally, he came to a decision and wheeled about, walking back the way he had come and striding all the way to his master's chambers.

"My lord, I have need of your council," he announced as he entered the dark room, uncaring of any call for decorum or politeness. In the dim light he could see his master stir slightly in his coffin, then fall still again. Well, he knew the man was awake at least, though, as usual, he was pretending to be asleep.

"My lord," Robert said again, striding over to his master's bedside and leaning down, close to the man's face. Even though the light was dim, he could still discern individual eyelashes, outlined as they were against the count's ghostly pale skin. "There seems to be an unexpected problem. Oh, stop faking, Victor; I know you're awake,"

One dark eye cracked open a slight bit, and Robert was treated to a very frightful glare. He was, however, used to such looks from his master; he received them daily each evening upon waking him up, and as such was un-phased by the very nasty one he was receiving now.

"What time is it?" Victor muttered, making no move to sit up or even to open his other eye.

"It's just a little after nine in the morning, but what I have to say can't wait until this evening. It concerns the woman in the basement."

Suddenly Victor was fully alert. He sat up and opened his eyes, all his attention focused completely on Robert.

"Is something the matter with my Angel of –"

"No, not with her, as such," Robert interrupted before his master could complete his cliché line. "It concerns the straw we left with her."

"Well? What's wrong with it?"

"It's...not really straw anymore, if you get my drift,"

Victor blinked. "Then what...?"

"Somehow, unless someone _else_ snuck in and replaced it, it's been...well, turned to gold."

"That's impossible," Victor said sternly, frowning at Robert as though wondering if the man was going a bit soft in the head.

"_I_ know that, sir," Robert said, crossing his arms and frowning right back. "But I also know what I see, and that straw's not straw any longer. How else to you explain it?" He watched as his master went into deep thought about the urgent matter at hand. Victor usually knew what to do to solve a problem...but then again, he was also adept at making situations much, much worse. For instance, he had once been very infatuated with a singer friend of his older brother, the late Count Erik von Verkoltenstein (Kiwi rest his poor, tormented soul), named Kristine. His master had thought it a marvelous idea to try to win the affections of the woman through song.

That had turned out about as well as most of Victor's attempts at song. If it weren't for the fact that the family owned the Opera House, Robert seriously would have considered his master in a lot of trouble...not to mention banned from the theatre.

So, as far as brilliant ideas went...it was only now occurring to him that maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut about the whole affair and solved the problem himself. But it was already too late, and the count was about to give him his opinion on the matter.

"Mayhaps...a generous fairy decided to help her out?" he said, finally.

Both men shared a moment, looking into each other's eyes, then shook their heads.

"Nah," they agreed, at length. But this landed the two right back at square one. How exactly had Hannah, a girl known for her inability for spinning even the most shortest of threads, managed to turn dry, slightly brittle straw into gold? The count and butler could only bounce ideas off of one another until they could find a proper answer. There were a million theories as to how such a bizarre occurrence could happen, each one more ridiculous than the last. Eventually, Victor settled on one hypothesis--one that Robert, for the life of him, couldn't quite grasp without having the urge to hit his head against a wall.

"My Hannah really is an angel!" the man declared, suddenly bringing one of his white half masks out of nowhere and standing atop his coffin, posing dramatically. "She has a gift! A gift given to her by the Higher Powers to test me and my greed! Yes, that must be it! Or possibly...she is the one being tested...? We are both being tested! I must believe in the power of miracles!"

"...With all due respect, sir..." Robert began, rubbing his temples. "You are an idiot."

Victor pouted, then put his hands on his hips as he looked at his best friend and servant. "Well...how do _you_ explain all of this, then?" The servant said nothing, which made his master feel rather smug. Crossing his arms, he gave Robert a very triumphant look.

Groaning in irritation, Robert decided that he should do something before Victor's head swelled up too big to fit his mask. "Look. How about we do a bit of investigation, hm?" he proposed, moving forward to help his master down from his rather precarious perch on his coffin. "We shall tell the girl that she should do another day of spinning and in the shadows...we shall watch for anything suspicious."

Victor thought about this proposition for all of two seconds before tackling Robert in an enthusiastic and manly hug. Normally, an embrace from the other man was usually (and _only_) a manly, one-armed hug, but when it came to the matter of his interest, Victor had more energy than a three-year-old on a sugar high.

"What a wonderful idea! Let's do it!" the count exclaimed, subsequently dashing out of his bedroom door before Robert could remind him that it was still daylight. Robert watched in amusement as the man came running back into the sanctuary of his bedroom, to lock himself firmly into his coffin. Rolling his eyes, Robert set to work closing all the curtains of the mansion so his master could travel down to the depths of his home into the basement where the miller girl was currently residing.

Once he was done doing everything in his power to keep from the cheerful November sun from filtering inside the abode of the von Verkoltenstein, he and Victor began the job of staking out Hannah's cell. Orders had been given to guards to remove the gold, put twice the amount of straw from the other night in and then inform Hannah of her new task.

The two men squeezed themselves into a small hidden room adjacent to Hannah's cell and waited quietly, side by side, taking turns peering through a spy-hole that had been built into the cell wall for just such an occasion. They spent the rest of the day keeping an eye on Hannah's sleeping form, and tried to amuse themselves quietly as best they could in the mean time.

They knew evening had come when a servant arrived at Hannah's door bearing the woman's evening meal, and Victor pushed Robert away from the peep-hole when the young woman in the cell stirred and awoke. He watched with an almost inaudible sigh as she partook in the simple meal presented to her, a little sleepily, he noted as she nearly stuffed her fork up her nose. Seeing his angel disheveled and tired enough to not function properly made him giggle--a sound that snapped the woman on the other side of the wall to attention. Both he and Robert were very tense as they waited for the miller girl to ask who was there.

But all she did was shake her head, then continue with eating her dinner, though she looked very wary now. The count and his servant gave a small sigh of relief.

"That was a close one," Victor whispered softly, "she almost caught us."

"Thanks entirely to you," Robert muttered under his breath.

Victor shrugged, then peered back into the hole. Nothing seemed amiss with the young woman. Despite her stressful circumstances, his Hannah was acting rather normal. Even despite having the scare from earlier, she looked very calm and serene--as if everything would turn out just fine for her. What inspiring confidence! The count was inclined to cry tears of awe.

He continued to keep watch, even when dinner was brought to him as well. He didn't touch it, although he did take an occasional sip of something tangy. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it tasted fine and well-aged. Perhaps he'd inquire after the mysterious drink later, when he wasn't so enraptured with watching his Hannah's every move. He yawned into his hand.

"Tired, sir?"

Victor glanced at Robert, intending to respond with an appropriately scathing remark, but then yawned again. He was somewhat gratified when his manservant suddenly yawned as well, popping his jaw in the process.

"I'm really...sleepy, all of a sudden," Robert whispered, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

I...as well," Victor heard himself agreeing. Without even really thinking about what he was doing, he leaned against Robert, resting his head on the man's shoulder, and closed his eyes. He'd just have a small nap...save up a bit of energy to continue watching his beloved angel...

--------

The orange fairy smiled to himself in satisfaction. He'd made sure the two men hiding away in that small room adjacent to the miller girl's cell would sleep the entire night through, and awake only after he left in the morning. It certainly wouldn't do to let too many people know of his interference with the miller girl, especially as he was angling to bag a prize much nicer than the simple necklace she'd given him last night.

---------

All was quiet in Raddy the Brown's little house out in the Fae Forest.

It was considerably pleasant in the cottage, with its familiar warmth against the cold winter weather outside. The mud-colored fairy was sleeping soundly in his hammock, wrapped up in a couple colorful quilts, when he was awakened by the frightened screams of his godchildren. Raddy, who was quite used to this, was nevertheless jerked out of his sleep faster than a unicorn charging a virgin. Unfortunately, one thing he had never gotten used to was rolling properly out of his hammock. He usually ended up tumbling spectacularly to the ground right on his masked face. This morning was no exception. Quickly checking to see if he had chipped or cracked the wood, he leapt to his feet and dashed off to discover what was the matter.

His godchildren, Hansel and Gretel, had an extremely bad habit of getting into all sorts of misadventures. He would never forget that one time they had gotten lost in the resort in Toyland. A security witch working for the resort had been hospitalized for trying to get them back to their parents. Tripped into and been badly burned inside a wide open oven, she had, much to the distress of the poor children, and not to mention hers. Or the time Gretel had baked a little gingerbread man, which had suddenly sprung to life when she threw some of the fairy dust from his collection on it. They had chased it and chased it and chased it, all the way to a river bank, where Gretel had nearly drowned trying to save the darned thing when it had fallen in. And never mind the times either Gretel or Hansel were kidnapped every other week, and the remaining sibling had to trek a long way in order to free the other. Just thinking about it was distressing Raddy, and when Raddy got riled up, he fell back to old habits.

"'Hansel!! Gretel!!' he cries out in anguish," the fairy narrated as he slammed open the door to Hansel and Gretel's room. Empty. He began to search the rest of the house. "Verily does he go about, looking here and there for his lost children, hoping against hope that nothing terrible has befallen them. Oh, how this fairy's heart beats against his ribcage as his fear escalates and escalates!"

Raddy bounded a corner, still continuing his narration as he practically tumbled into the kitchen, where Red was holding the pancakes hostage.

"What is this? What is going on!? He demands upon bursting into the kitchen, taking in with wide-eyed astonishment the tableau before him," Raddy said, looking pointedly at Red, who returned his blank-masked stare with a look of great amusement.

"Uncle Raddy, Uncle Raddy!" Gretel distracted him by tugging on his night-shirt. He looked down at the little girl, who was staring up at him, her brown eyes wide. "Uncle Red made pancakes, but he says he won't share! Make him share! Please?"

"He looks back up at Red, bemusement plain on his face. Is this true?" Raddy asked, matching actions to words even as he spoke.

"Of course not," Red responded, picking up a plate piled high with pancakes from the back of the stove, where he'd been guarding it from the children. "I was just waiting for you to wake up. Now that you're here, we can all eat together," he said, smiling.

"He looks back down at his beloved godchild and smiles. There now, you see?" he asked, ruffling Gretel's sleep-tussled hair. "Now go get washed up, and we'll all have breakfast together."

"Uncle Raddy, you're doing it again," she said in response, even as she hugged him tight about the waist and scurried to do as she was told, with Hansel following close behind.

Red gave a small, warm chuckle as he watched the children hurry off to clean themselves at Raddy's request. Shaking his head a little, he placed the stack of pancakes on the table before searching for fresh plates and utensils so he could set the table, with the Fae watching him (or, at least, Red _thought_ he was being watched). He quietly went about his work, listening to the sounds of the morning outside and the soft tinkling of plates, forks and knives inside, as well as the sporadic interruptions of Hansel and Gretel's little voices.

Finally done, the baker turned to address the brown fairy in all of his masculine, tussled glory. He smiled. "You haven't changed one bit," he commented. Raddy tilted his head to the side a little, pondering something.

"I could say the same of you," the fairy said at length, moving forward from where he stood at the door since the 'hostage situation' had been resolved. He kept going until he was in front of the other man. He reached up and brushed some hair away from Red's face. The hand trailed down, pulling the long black braid forward. Picking it at the end, he brought it up, close to his mask. 

And then he tugged the ribbon off, having the mind to dishevel the stunned man's hair a bit so that the braid loosened. 

"You...you..."

If Red could see behind Raddy's mask, he would no doubt have been treated to the sight of a rather cheeky grin."Nope. Haven't changed a bit," he said, laughter in his voice as he played a bit of keep away with the smaller man. It was like playing with an overly enthusiastic and angry kitten with the way Red just kept swiping at the hair ribbon, but never actually getting it, as Raddy was much taller than Red and held it easily out of the shorter man's reach. In his frustration the baker wrapped an arm around the tall fairy's neck to gain some extra leverage as he jumped another time to get his hair ribbon back. 

At this point, the children decided to walk back into the kitchen.

"Yuck! Just like our parents!" Hansel exclaimed, clearly disgusted at what he was seeing.

It was then Red realized properly that he was clinging to Raddy using both his legs and his arm in his attempt to retrieve his ribbon. He let go abruptly and stumbled back, face flaming.

"Are you going to kiss?" Gretel asked hopefully. "Can I watch? Are you in love? Are you going to get married? And have babies? Can I name a baby? I wanna name her Danielle! Danielle's a pretty name. It's a princess-y name. Will the baby be a princess? And if she's a princess, does that mean she'll marry a prince? Will the prince be handsome, too? And—"

Hansel put his hand over his little sister's mouth at this point, for which Red was eternally grateful.

"No, Gretel, we're not in love. And we couldn't have babies together anyway," Raddy explained patiently. Red was sure the fairy was looking at him as he said this, and blushed all the harder. Raddy was perfectly aware that Red had had a bit of a crush on him back in their younger days...and if he was any sort of intelligent, he probably figured that Red still did. "Now, why don't we all sit down and have some pancakes before they get cold?" he suggested, diverting the topic back to a safer subject.

"Yay!" both the children cheered, and took their seats at once.

"Come on, Red," Raddy said, holding out his hand and proffering Red's ribbon. Red accepted the accessory gracefully, though he still couldn't look directly at Raddy. Little Gretel's innocent questions had reminded him all too well of his crush on the muddy fairy, and put him in mind of other things...

No! He couldn't think about..._that_...especially not with the man himself present, and in the presence of two innocent children besides! Firmly pushing any and all thoughts of such dubious adult nature to the furthest corner at the back of his mind, Red sat down at the table and began helping Raddy serve breakfast.

"Speaking of children, Raddy...are these two yours?" Red inquired, now that the general silliness and chaos that had broken out that morning passed. The fairy, who had taken a good gulp of orange juice when no one was looking, sprayed his drink in surprise. Luckily for everyone, except the brown fairy, the mask he wore worked like a sneeze guard. The baker snickered as he watched the juice dribble down from behind the wooden mask. Smirking a little, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and reached across the table to help clean him up. "So?" he said, expectantly.

"You know better than I, that they're my godchildren," Raddy replied.

"Damn straight!" Hansel stated proudly.

"Watch your language, young man."

"Sorry, Uncle Raddy." 

Red rolled his eyes and tried questioning again. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was, from what I remember...fairies only take care of children directly if they're abandoned. Remember the Three U's!" Raddy nodded.

"Yes...Unloved, Unwanted, Unfortunate."

Red regarded the two children, who were both still munching away happily at their pancakes and maple syrup. "And which are these?" he asked, for try as he might, he couldn't fathom the answer on his own.

"They are, fortunately, neither Unloved nor Unwanted," Raddy informed him. "Unfortunately, they are..."

"Unfortunate," Red finished, glancing once more at the two young ones.

"Yes," Raddy confirmed. "They are destined to encounter great deals of trouble in their young years, though I think they should soon grow out of it," he said.

"Oh," Red said. He speared a bite of pancake on his fork and swirled it around in the puddle of syrup on his plate. "How do you figure?" he asked, raising the bite of pancake to his mouth.

"Well, young Hansel is nearly ten now, and that's usually the age when Unfortunates stop needing their fairy godparents. Once Hansel has his birthday, I think my services won't be required much longer," Raddy said, lifting a forkful of pancake to his mask. For some reason, Red felt compelled to reach for his glass of milk at that exact moment, and when he looked back at his friend, the fork was empty and he could see the Fae's ears wagging slightly as he chewed.

"How do you _do_ that?" Red asked before he even realized he was going to.

"Do what?" Raddy cocked his head, puzzlement plain in his voice and manner.

Red opened his mouth to explain, but then paused, and shook his head. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head. There were probably some things he was better off not knowing.

"So," Raddy began, moving the conversation along to new topics, "what's the plan of attack for today, Red?" The fairy watched as the small man started to ponder just that as he absently helped Gretel pour some syrup onto her plate before she made a mess of herself and the table. He noted, with faint amusement, how the baker made sure that the syrup spelled out the girl's name in elaborate cursive writing. Ah, the experience of a hand used to writing words in semi-viscous substances.

Now, what was Red going to do? It had been suggested that he lay low for a while, until the villagers calmed down somewhat--but something important might have happened while he had been away! Who knew what sorts of mischief would be happening as he lay hidden within the Fae Forest? That idiot Neil had had to go and ruin everything with that stunt of his yesterday...What he wouldn't do to get back at him somehow...

"Homicide comes to mind," Red stated absently, imagining myriads of ways the insufferable hero could die, "but other than that, I'd like to check in with Hannah to see how she's holding up right now..."

Raddy nodded in understanding. "I'll walk you to the edge of the Forest, then, when you're ready to go," he said.

Red nodded, blushing slightly. "Thanks," he said in response.

Everyone finished eating soon after that, and the breakfast mess in the kitchen was cleaned up. Red donned his cloak, Raddy his scarf, and they both helped the children into their winter jackets – dark red for Gretel, and hunter green for Hansel.

The air outside was crisp and clear, and the light dusting of snow that had fallen the night before crunched pleasantly beneath the feet of Red and the two children. Raddy, never very fond of shoes, chose to hover several inches above the ground as they went, trailing his bare toes in the air just above the frost.

The walk was pleasant, and over too quickly for Red's liking. The four reached the edge of the forest and stopped.

"Well...thanks for the food and the bed, Raddy," Red said, feeling slightly awkward.

"It was no problem," Raddy responded warmly. "If you can, please come see me before you go home after you've got Hannah sorted out...I have something I'd like to talk to you about, but I don't want you to worry about that while you're doing your chores."

Red blinked, but agreed, wondering even as he did so what Raddy wanted to talk about. After giving Hansel and Gretel each a big hug, and casting a sort of awkward smile at the brown fairy, he turned and made his way along the road south, back towards the Count's castle.

The trip around Maple Town was mostly uneventful. He may have stumbled upon a nest filled with spiders (which wrenched from his lips the loudest, shrillest, longest screams the nearby Fae Forest had ever been privy to in the last thousand years) and at one point he tripped over a large, inconveniently placed piece of wood and face first into the fresh snow, which was sprinkled lightly with fairy dust--which he had a bit of a time wiping off his face--but nothing _truly_ interesting happened.

In all of this uninteresting going-ons about his person, the baker managed to do something he hadn't done in a while: Introspection.

More specifically, introspection about a certain someone who had retrieved his lost basket, which was now hanging in its familiar place in the crook of his arm.

It was amazing how many times he had lost the thing over the years. As a child, his mother would scold him whenever he lost something, especially when the object he had lost was of a particular value. He'd always ended up finding what he'd lost, one way or another, or just shrugged and moved on to get something newer (though the newer would never be quite the same as the older). This basket he carried was of a certain affiliation. He was pretty attached to it, as it were, though his past actions had shown otherwise.

This had been his mother's basket. The last thing she had touched (besides the brush of her lips against his forehead and a caress of her hand along his cheek) and the very last thing his father had given to him before they left, never to return again.

Red stopped walking for a moment as he suddenly got choked up at the thought of his parents, and had to wrestle with himself for some time before he could resume his traveling to the Count's demesne. By the end of his little internal struggle, his sensible side also reminded him of what that basket had helped to do in the past as well as those who had possibly touched it.

Which brought the young man back to thoughts of the man known only as Wolf. Various emotions came to mind when he thought of his life's greatest antagonist. Anger, irritation...pity, sympathy, and feeling terribly sorry. Maybe just the smallest sliver of admiration. After all, the man had rescued him that one time from the Wicked Fairy, (and possibly a few other times, if he really thought about it) and retrieved his basket for him when he had not asked such things. Also, smaller than the feeling of admiration, he felt a touch of...he didn't know the word for it, actually.

Adulation? Content? Flattered? Whatever the feeling was, it made him flush pink and caused a sense of warmth to spread within his breast (though that fluttered away as fast as it came) whenever he thought about Wolf's unwavering devotion.

_How I managed such a feat from someone I barely know_, Red thought a little sadly, _will haunt me for the rest of my life._

The baker continued on this rather pitiful train of thought for a good ten minutes, wondering about the strange relationship between himself and Wolf, when something ever-so-rudely caught his attention via an unexpected bite to his shin.

"_You_," Red said accusingly, pointing a finger at the culprit. The little perpetrator, not seen by the dark haired man for quite a while now, was grinning up at him in a doggish sort of way as it nonchalantly scratched an ear. "Don't play innocent with me. What was that for?" he demanded, bending down to rub his aching shin as he glared at the offensively cute puppy before him. As if waiting for him to do exactly that, the puppy wolf-dog snatched his basket clean off of him and ran straight away. Wasting only a few moments being flabbergasted that this was happening _again_, the baker gave immediate chase.

"Come back here you little hellion!" he shouted, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

One could describe the many ways a not-so-fully-grown man could pursue a dog, however, as the event is nothing too special in of itself (besides the hijinks one can expect from such a spectacle) one could most definitely find oneself content to zero in on the aftermath of such a scenario.

The small man was huffing and puffing by the time he got within arm's length of his basket, his reserves usually kept for fleeing mobs and such almost depleted in the long dash after Wulf. The Siberian husky was nowhere to be seen, but its treasure had been haphazardly left on the groundLetting out an annoyed breath, Red reached out to take the handle when he heard shouts close by Curious, he picked up his basket and followed the noise.

"That is completely and utterly _out of the question!_" he heard a very familiar voice snarl. Red blinked and hurried a little faster.

"And who gave you the authority to judge?" came the silky smooth response. "Shouldn't the answer to this question be given by the one it concerns?"

"Absolutely not!" the first voice insisted. Red had, by this time, come to the edge of the forest that encircled the clearing around Hannah's prison basement, and stopped just short of exiting the trees to stare at the tableau before him in astonishment.

The orange Fae was there, of course – the owner of such a silky smooth voice could be no one else. But what really stunned Red and momentarily robbed him of the ability to move was the presence of the other man.

He hadn't changed much in the long months since Red had last seen him – oh, maybe his hair was a little longer, his chin a little scruffier, but his amber eyes and tall, lean, leather-clad form were still much the same. Thoughts of their last encounter in Tempus rudely and without invitation invaded Red's mind, and he flushed with shame when he remembered how they had parted. What was wrong with him, really? Wolf had spent the whole evening being incredibly kind and gentlemanly, but as soon as he'd figured out the man's identity, Red had wanted nothing further to do with him. And yet, even after he'd so cruelly walked out on him, Wolf still remained, retrieving his basket for him and guarding his path...

And as thanks for his devotion, Red treated him little better than a doormat. As he realized this, he felt suddenly sick to his stomach.

"Ah, well, speak of the devil!" The orange Fae had noticed his presence, and turned to regard Red with a winning smile that the baker didn't trust one iota. Wolf looked to where the Fae indicated, caught sight of Red, and scowled.

The man towards whom the scowl was pointed was taken aback for a few moments, before he reasoned that he couldn't really be the cause of that ugly expression--not directly anyways. No, he was fairly sure that it had something to do with the fairy floating gayfully (and not in the good sense, either) towards him as tangerine-colored sparkles drifted down from his wings. The guy was leering quite openly at him. It surprised Red to realize that, even if Wolf was incorrigible at times (at least, from what he barely knew of him) he had not once ever looked at Red quite like _that._

"Looks like we can settle things, after all!" the fairy said gleefully, prancing around behind Red and daring to wrap his arms around his shoulders. It could only be assumed that this Fae was trying to be friendly, but knowing the baker's mindset and his current track record for friendly fairies (not to mention the shouting from earlier), he shrugged him off and unconsciously moved to Wolf's side for better protection.

"Oh, _hells_ no," Wolf ground out through clenched teeth as he reached out a hand to push Red behind him, as if to protect him from whatever the orange fairy had planned. It was a simple gesture and one that Red paid an almost sickening amount of attention to as his curiosity piqued. What was going on?

"Anyone care to explain to me what the problem is?" he asked dryly, though the back of his neck was prickling and he was beginning to think that running away screaming might not be a bad idea.

"It's my fault...I'm afraid," Hannah spoke up from her window. Red turned around to see her peering through the bars solemnly.

"No, no, my dear girl! You mustn't blame yourself!" the orange Fae was quick to jump to Hannah's assurance. "How were you to know?"

"Know what?" Red asked. He was becoming slightly irritated by all the mystery, and not to mention the fact that all his instincts were screaming at him to run out of there _now_, please.

"You don't want to know," Wolf muttered.

"Well! I'm happy you asked, my dear," the Fae said, ignoring Wolf and beaming at Red. "You see, I have sworn an oath to help the lovely Hannah out of her predicament, in exchange for a small trinket or two as compensation. We were just discussing the transaction to take place on this, the third and what we understand to be the final night of fair Hannah's imprisonment. I have made a tiny, insignificant request of the beautiful maiden, which, alas, she cannot fulfill...But my oath still stands, and I must hold to it, though how I will be able to do that without recompense of some sort is _most_ troubling..."

"What did you want that she can't give you?" Red asked, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"My virginity," Hannah answered matter-of-factly.

Red blinked as his mind took a moment to process this information. Once it had gone through, he raised an eyebrow at the orange Fae.

"If you're just after a roll in the hay, and she's willing to give it to you, what's the big deal?" he asked bluntly.

"Ah, ah, ah!" The Fae wagged an admonishing finger. "It doesn't work like that, I'm afraid! What I want is not quite as simple as that!" he explained. "I want something that can only be given once, to a single person, and never again to any other. She has already given hers away. However, there is some question as to whether or not her pretty little friend is still in possession of _hers—_"

Suddenly, in a flash, Red knew where this was going. Flushing bright red, he drew himself up to his full height, glaring with all his might at the leering creature before him. "I'm a _man_, you flamboyant, licentious _pouf!_" he shouted, clenching his fists in anger.

Silence followed this loud proclamation with varying reactions. Hannah didn't seem at all surprised, but with her particularly unique demeanor it would have been difficult to tell if she had been. Wolf looked very amused, probably remembering a situation similar to the one he was currently party to. The fairy was silent and had a blank look on his face.

"Well," the Fae began, at length. "This is...well...hmmm..."

A tiny ray of hope started to shine down upon Red. Could it be? Was it possible? Was this garishly dressed pervert straight despite all appearance pointing to the contrary? All this--and more--ran through the baker's mind as he prayed to the Higher Powers that this was the truth and that the Fae would get embarrassed and ask for something else in return for his services--or better yet, forget the whole trade thing and just do the spinning for free.

One would think that a decade of crushed hopes and misadventures would have taught Red that the Ironic Overpowers had other plans for him--plans that usually had a liberal amount of misery spread over them like a really thick, sticky strawberry jam.

"How wonderful!" the fairy cried in delight, clapping his hands together in glee and taking in Red's horrified expression with a grin. "I already thought you were very attractive as a girl, but for you to be really a man after all just makes the deal even sweeter!"

_Oh, gods, helps me...I think I just turned him on_, Red thought in alarm. What was he supposed to do now? As far as he was concerned the Fae had already made up his mind and when fairies decide to do something, they usually ended up doing it at any cost.

As the baker went into a state of mortification from the practically imminent loss of his precious virginity (a topic which was still very sore with him) from his mind spiraling downward with worst case scenarios of doom (and said 'doom' was with Capital, _italicized_, **bold** and underlined letters), Wolf spoke up again.

"It isn't _your_ right to decide whether or not you can take Red's virginity, arse-wipe." the silver haired man growled, clenching and unclenching his hands in an effort to keep himself from decking the insufferable fairy. If looks could kill, Wolf's amber eyes would have smote the orange Fae ten times over, resurrected him to clean up the mess, then proceed to rip off his wings, and finally shove him over the edge of a very steep cliff.

The fairy must have realized this, as he hastily continued, "Alright, look...I'll cut you a break. As one who is fair and wise, yet in constant need of attention and..." He paused to ogle Red, who shivered. "..._enetertainment_, I propose that we leave things to fate...A sort of game of chance, if you will..."

Wolf raised an eyebrow at this, but nodded, prompting the fairy to explain his terms. A game, eh? Well any game could be twisted to a player's advantage as long as they knew how...

"And the game is thus...starting tonight, I'll give you three days to solve the following puzzle: What is my name?"

...unless, of course, the game was fixed to begin with. And the damnable Fae had done just that. How in the world were they supposed to figure out which name out of possible _billions_ was his actual name?

"Three days?" Red asked, finally snapped out of his self-induced pity-party filled with imminent doom. "That's it?"

"Well, actually...it's more like...three _nights_," the Fae amended, shrugging in a 'what can you do?' sort of way, filthy leer still firmly affixed to his features. "I'll come visit you every night at--say...eight o'clock, and give you lot the opportunity to try and guess at my name until the sun comes up. When that happens, I shall take my leave for the day until your next attempt the following evening. And if you don't get it right by the sunrise of the third night, well..." The orange Fae smirked at them as tangerine, orange, and various other citrus-flavored colored sparkles and smoke surrounded him. All three humans choked on the fumes, which smelt of overly ripe fruit. When the smoke finally receded, the fairy had disappeared, leaving no room for anyone to argue his decision on the subject of payment. If they didn't wish for the count to send Hannah to an early grave, they were stuck to do as he said.

Realizing this, Hannah quietly said, "I'm...so sorry."

"It's alright, Hannah," the men reassured her simultaneously. At that point, the two finally, truly, acknowledge the presence of the other, and were both a little startled to find that they had come practically elbow to elbow during the whole exchange. Red gasped and unconsciously jumped back, though he immediately regretted the action as the other man made a small expression of sadness. The baker tried giving the older man a small smile, which Wolf returned a little shakily.

"Uh...Wolf..."

"Red..."

There was a short, awkward pause in which Red fought furiously to keep from blushing and tried desperately to think of something to say. It was Wolf, however, who finally interrupted the tense silence with a somewhat feral-sounding growl and broke into an agitated rant.

"I'll knock in his jaw! I'll pull off his ears and beat him black and blue! I'll rip off his wings and make _doilies_ out of them! And once I'm done doing that, I'll take him to a healer so I can do it all over again, and smash his fingers and toes besides! Then I'll drag his limp, twisted body all the way to Bella Notte through the wild back-country, commandeer a passing ship, and _keel-haul_ his smarmy ass until he drowns! And then I'll—"

It was at this point that he was completely surprised into shutting up when Red very unexpectedly hugged him.

"Um...?" was all that his very astonished brain could come up with to say.

"Thanks," Red muttered, letting go and backing away slightly, blushing beet-red and looking anywhere but at Wolf. "That's...um, well, that's awfully nice of you, but we're talking about a _Fae_, so...um...even though I have complete confidence in your ability to do all those things to a normal person, Fae can't generally...er, be treated like that, though." Coughing slightly, he finally worked up the courage to actually look at Wolf, who, he was amused to see, was staring at him with a completely dumbfounded expression.

"Um...if I may...offer a suggestion?" Hannah spoke up quietly from her window, breaking the second awkward silence that had settled upon the group in as many minutes. The two men, grateful for the distraction, each turned to look at her.

"Please," Red said.

"Perhaps it would be best...if you were to...oblige the fairy...at present," she began. Wolf and Red, both familiar with Hannah's slow speech, did not offer any protest at this point, instead waiting silently and patiently for her to continue. "It seems to me...that the only way...to best a Fae...is to beat him at his own game," she said. "Generous as he's been...to me...I find it...in poor taste...that he has...turned his attention on you," she nodded at Red. "There must be...someone...around...who knows...the Fae's name. I would suggest...that one of you...find this person...and ask."

"That seems logical..." Red began, but was interrupted by Wolf.

"I highly doubt that there is anyone around here who knows the poncy bastard's name," the silver-haired man said. "Else he would not be so confident in his proposed guessing game."

"Oh," Red, whose hopes had begun to raise a bit at Hannah's suggestion, found them dragged right back down into the mud. Wolf, noticing the small change in Red's demeanor, stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Red gulped audibly and looked up at him, eyes wide.

"But if such a person _does_ exist, rest assured that I will find him, and convince him to tell me what we need to know," Wolf said quietly, leaning down slightly and gazing seriously into Red's eyes.

"Wolf..." Red was, for once, at a loss for words. The way he enunciated Wolf's name, though, told the amber-eyed man more than many thousands of words possibly could. That Red was no longer angry about the masque was quite clear. Perhaps his feelings had changed somewhat over the past few months? He hadn't demanded to know what Wolf was doing here as soon as the citrus-y Fae had disappeared, or requested that he go away, or said any of the other things that he usually said to Wolf when he appeared in the man's life. Wolf felt that he didn't dare hope for some turn-around, but found himself hoping all the same. He reached up and put his free hand on Red's other shoulder, drawing him almost imperceptibly closer. Their faces were inches apart now, and all it would take on either man's part was a slight motion to bring their lips together. Red realized his heart was pounding, and he found himself almost hoping that maybe Wolf _would_ kiss him...

"Besides," Wolf was whispering now, so that only Red could hear what he was saying. "_I_ wanna be your first." He knew immediately that that had been exactly the _wrong_ thing to say when Red's eyes flashed and his nostrils flared, and the smaller man brought the heel of his foot down _hard_ on the toes of Wolf's.

"Pervert!" the usual insult came easily to Red's lips as he backed away, glaring. Wolf grimaced in pain and cursed himself silently. He was willing to wager quite a lot that things would have been alright if he'd just shut up and _kissed_ the man.

"I was joking!" he said, which only elicited a glare from the red-cloaked baker. He wondered if it was only wishful thinking that this angry look didn't have the same potency as many of the earlier ones he'd received. In either case, though, he forced a smile to his lips and gestured grandly. "And with that, I shall away, and I won't return unless I bring with me the name of the fruity little wanker who dares to claim you for his own!" With this proclamation, he made an abrupt about-face and strode off into the woods, trying very hard not favor the foot Red had stomped on until he was out of sight and lost in the trees.


	7. Vampire Hunter Red

**CHAPTER 7**

Vampire Hunter Red

This was stupid. This was _horribly_ stupid. This was so horribly stupid that if you looked the word up in the dictionary, the entry for 'stupid' would direct you to open up a thesaurus just so you could see the many words describing the current situation that Red was in.

It had started out innocently enough. Well, maybe not exactly _innocently_, as the whole affair had begun with the blatant failed murder of an aristocrat that everyone in the village suspected was a vampire with various artifacts of note.

Actually, that wasn't quite accurate either. What had really started the downhill snowball was the moment his godmother had paid him yet another visit with a chore in mind. Oh, how simple it had seemed at the time...All he'd had to do was go to Maple Town, check up on a miller girl, find out why she was to die, and then figure out a way to prevent that from happening. Unfortunately, things had gotten quite serious and had left the baker in a very bad state of affairs.

The dark-haired man really wondered what it was about himself that often attracted unwanted attention, especially from the male Fae. It was becoming rather bothersome that they were generally out to get him for one reason or another. He was beginning to entertain the thought that he had wronged a great many people in his previous life and was now being punished for said wrongs.

Even though the disdain that the baker held for nearly all of fairy kind was fairly legendary, the orange Fae who wanted his virginity (the thought of which made him choke and spout out bad Ye Olde Englishe randomly to himself in indignation) was not what was making Red pace back and forth so miserably and worriedly in the forest bordering the count's estate. No, though he knew he should be very concerned with the very possible future, he was actually thinking about Wolf.

He had been thinking of the silver-haired man so often lately, he thought that, perhaps, he had finally snapped and given in to some sort of cosmic trap. He couldn't quite believe that he had been sorry about Wolf. The man had been as incorrigible as ever—especially for that last stunt! There he had been, ready to forgive and forget (or 'kiss and make-up' for the anal retentive) and then—ugh!

"It's official," Red grumbled to himself, "I am cursed when it comes to men. Maybe I should think about becoming straight…"

The man did not seriously consider such a prospect, but temptation was temptation and he did wonder, briefly, if his view of the female creature in general could be changed. He decided, as a short flight of fancy, to start weighing the pros and cons as he began the walk to the Count's realm of influence. He had promised to meet up with Hannah at around sunset—just before that bedamned orange fairy was to arrive to start his naming game with them. The Count, Victor von Verkoltenstein, had offered to appear as well (it was the least he could do, by adding his own resources to finding a solution for Red, as he had inadvertently caused this whole thing to happen with his _brilliant _plans in the first place), but Red had told him that this was between himself, Hannah and the Fae. They would handle it.

Red groaned to himself as he thought about how he and the noble had come to meet. At the time it had not been at all pleasant for the baker to infiltrate the large home after acquiring a flask of holy water, some garlic, and a rusty old crucifix. He could remember with extreme clarity how hard his heart had been beating in his chest like a loud, pulsating drum as he had carefully crept about in search of the elusive count, who only appeared at night…

**Earlier that day…**

"Garlic? Check…Holy water from the church of St. Amaranth? Check. Crucifix? Eh….check."

"Is this…truly necessary?" Raddy asked, looking over the carefully selected items on his kitchen table. Hansel and Gretel would have been gawking and wondering what their newly acquired 'Uncle Red' was doing, had the brown fairy not wisely told them to go play outside. He gingerly picked up the rusty old cross Red had bartered from a traveling peddler who had been on his way to Bella Notte, a port town near the ocean renowned for its fine pasta, singing waiters, and generally romantic atmosphere. "I'm quite sure that there are other ways of dealing with this dilemma."

Red had immediately stormed off to his childhood friend's place after Wolf had made his exit into the woods. Arriving at Raddy's, he'd found the fairy engrossed in telling his godchildren a fairy story. Only after the children had vacated the premises had the baker told Raddy exactly what had gone on when he'd left to check up on Hannah, and why he had come back so quickly when he had only just left.

"I have to kill him," Red replied, practically stoic compared to the bundle of nerves he had been when he'd first returned to the little cottage in the Fae Forest . "If I can manage to get rid of him, not only will those annoying vampire charges against me be lifted—stupid Neil—Hannah won't need to spin that gold anymore."

"But Red…what if the man _isn't_ a vampire as the rumors say?" Raddy inquired, trying to talk some sense into the smaller male. Red looked up at the fairy, searching for the eyes behind the wooden mask his friend always wore, his own expression a mixture of resignation and terror. Raddy lifted a hand and rested it gently atop the baker's head in a gentle gesture of comfort. "And even if he was…do you honestly think the townsfolk will let you go free? Humans are rather fickle beings…"

As if Red needed to be reminded of _that_.

"Well, it doesn't matter," he declared. "It's not as if I have to go back to town anyway. I'll just get rid of the count, which will clean up this whole stupid mess with that orange prat and Hannah, and go back to my home and never leave again. Unless..." Red paused as a thought occurred to him. "_You_ wouldn't be able to tell me the name of the orange Fae that skulks around these parts, would you?"

Raddy was silent for a moment, and Red wished, not for the first time, that he could see his friend's face beneath his mask. Finally, the brown fairy shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said.

Red shrugged. He had known it wouldn't be as easy as asking Raddy—these things never were—so he wasn't terribly disappointed. "Oh, well, it can't be helped. Anyway, I should get going...the best time to kill vampires is during the day, after all." Without waiting for Raddy to respond, he collected his vampire killing weapons in one clean motion and dumped the lot into his basket, then strode for the door. Raddy followed, his body-language indicating that he had something he wanted to say, but Red didn't notice.

"Thanks for your help, Raddy. I'll see you again soon...probably," Red said at the door, before turning and jogging off into the woods, without giving Raddy a chance to say anything more.

"I can't _tell_ you his name, but I know where to find it," Raddy muttered at his friend's retreating back. He pondered briefly if he ought to run after Red, but then decided against it a moment later when two small bodies attached themselves each to one of his legs, and he looked down at his godchildren, who were smiling up at him.

"Where's Uncle Red going?" Hansel asked.

"He has some errands," Raddy responded somewhat vaguely. As he watched Red disappear from view, it occurred to him that he had nothing to worry about. Red would go to the Count's, no doubt get involved in some wacky and utterly embarrassing mix-up involving mistaken identities and false rumors, and be back tonight in time for dinner. _I can tell him then,_ he reasoned, and ushered the children back into the warm of his cottage.

The journey to the Count's manor passed quickly for Red, who jogged most of the way in a not entirely successful effort to boost his morale. Once he arrived, he circled the perimeter looking for the servant's entrance, which he located with little trouble. He managed to sneak inside with even less trouble, and it occurred to him that sneaking inside stranger's manors was probably not the sort of activity regular young men his age practiced. He experienced a moment of fierce longing when that thought lead to another, touchier one; that being that most regular young men his age were quite happily settled down with their One True Loves or Reasonable Facsimile Thereof, and did not have to deal with pedophilic Fae and horny Wolfs on a daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly basis. This thought caused the fear he was feeling at willingly venturing into the abode of a rumored vampire to recede temporarily, replaced with righteous anger at the unfairness of it all. However, the fear returned full-force when he heard loud, purposeful footsteps approaching him from somewhere in his nearby vicinity.

Heart pounding, he looked about wildly for a hiding place. He was currently in a rather wide hallway, lined with gorgeous, full-glass windows on one side and a number of portraits and paintings on the hunter-green wall of the other. Nearly weeping at the horrible cliché, Red ducked behind the deep green velvet curtains drawn open at intervals between the wide windows. He hoped that whoever was passing wouldn't notice his feet sticking out of the bottom.

He stood very still, hardly daring to breath, as the man to whom the footsteps belonged approached his hiding place, and then strode right on by. As he passed, Red could hear him muttering under his breath, though he couldn't make out what was being said beyond a few words – "Stupid Victor," "Bloody nuisance," and "What is he _thinking!?_" being key among them. Red shifted slightly and peeped out from behind the curtain at the man's retreating back. Everything he had heard sounded exactly like something he himself would utter at one time or another, and he felt a sort of instant bond with the stranger, who was clearly on some sort of mission for his master. Red waited until he was out of sight down the long hall and beyond a corner, before he darted out from behind his curtain and followed.

The baker found that he had to jump behind curtains (he had to be careful, because though they hid him from the other man's view, anyone outside could see him very clearly and the last thing he needed was a mob to storm the mansion), alcoves (when one came by, of course) and conveniently placed suits of armor (thank you egotistical knights of the past) as he made his way through the count's mansion. There was one close call when he knocked loudly into something, and he had to make a sort of squeaking noise to throw off the man he was shadowing, but on the whole he remained undetected.

_There must be an easier way to go about this_, the baker thought miserably to himself, as he readied the bottle of holy water he had acquired. Only now did he realize through a belated spurt common sense that he hadn't armed himself with anything that would have actually _killed_ a vampire, like, say, a stake and a mallet to drive it into the supposed vampire's heart. Or maybe a crossbow with silver tipped bolts. He didn't know where he could have gotten one with such bolts--and silver really was only for werewolves--but if it kept anything that had a possibility of killing him far away, he wouldn't complain. He mentally cursed his lack of foresight, but continued onwards. There would be no point in wasting time by leaving and then returning once again when it was later in the day.

Red licked his lips in anticipation as he tiptoed carefully, basket secure at his elbow, bottle of holy water in hand. Let's see those damn villagers call him a vampire now! The man truly wondered how the townsfolk of Maple Town would react to him taking down the count. Would they have some sort of loyalty to the man regardless of his vampiric status? Or would they wonder if Red would take over as the head vampire or something equally as stupid? Either way, his was a thankless job, and one he did grudgingly and with very, _very_ clenched teeth.

_I'll have to discuss with Godmother about getting some sort of grievance pay--risking my life like this is not good for my health or mental stability_, Red mused.

The red-cloaked man was snapped out of his reverie when he heard a door snap shut, and he cursed himself for getting distracted so easily. Looking about furtively, he quickly scurried forward without being seen, which was considerably ridiculous as there didn't seem to be anyone in the large mansion at all, except for the man he was following so intently with the vague hope that he would lead him to his target. He gripped the holy water, wishing that it was in one of his squirt bottles. It wasn't a crossbow, but at least the idea that he had some distance between himself and Imminent Doom (with capitalized letters) made him feel somewhat better.

The muttering manservant entered a room, and Red sidled up to the door frame, crouched, and peered through the opening. The room beyond was as dark and still as—Red cringed at the metaphor, but could think of nothing more appropriate—a tomb. He could just make out a vague, man-like shape sitting at a table next to one wall. It was this shape that the servant addressed.

"My lord, the men have just finished preparations for tonight," he said. Red could see the shape shift slightly, and it appeared as though it was turning to face its servant.

"Very good, Robert," the figure's voice was deep and somewhat scratchy. It didn't sound at all like what Red had both heard and imagined a vampire's voice would. Before the servant could respond, the figure seemed to pose dramatically, clasping its hands to its breast. "I'm so sorry, my beautiful Hannah!" it exclaimed, much to Red's surprise. "But we must get to the bottom of this most puzzling of mysteries! Please be patient a little while longer, my immortal angel of –"

"Hadn't you better go to sleep soon, my lord?" the servant interrupted, irritation plain in his voice. Red wondered if these over-exaggerated dramatics were a common occurrence.

"Ah, dearest Robert, if only it were that simple!" the figure, who Red realized could be none other than the count, dropped his dramatic pose and moved closer to the servant. "But as you know only too well, I spent all of last night in a sleep..._most_ satisfying." His voice dropped in volume until it was only a husky whisper, but Red could still hear plainly enough. "I'm afraid I find myself wide awake at this unnatural hour...and with nothing to occupy my attention until night-fall but my most faithful of servants..." he trailed off and leaned even closer to Robert, who stood with his back straight and stiff as a poker.

"You know I am always more than happy to indulge you, my lord," he said, his own voice hardly louder than a whisper. "But I'm afraid that now is simply not the time, as there is one other concern on my mind which I have yet to mention."

"Oh?" The count seemed more interested in Robert's neck at this point than in what Robert was saying.

"Mmm...it involves the little mouse listening at the door," Robert said, seemingly unfazed by his master's intent scrutiny of his body.

"What?" The count's head shot up just as Red whipped his own head back around the corner, cursing silently. So he _had_ been noticed! Bloody hell! What was he supposed to do now?

"Little mouse? Come out, my dear, and tell us what you're up to," the count ordered, his voice much harder than Red had thought possible, considering the slightly stomach-twisting scene he had just witnessed moments before. He briefly considered making a break for it and forgetting the whole thing, but he thought of the orange fairy and what he was going to have to do with the prat if he ran off now stopped him. Clutching his bottle of holy water firmly with one hand and his basket with the other, he stood and, heart pounding in his throat, turned and stepped into the doorway.

The manservant, Robert, had moved over to the table and lit a lamp, so that Red could see his foe properly for the first time.

Count Victor von Verkoltenstein didn't _look_ like a vampire. Certainly, his skin was very pale and his dark hair and eyes gleamed in the lamp-light, but he didn't possess that eerie, unearthly quality Red had seen before when he had glimpsed vampires from afar. That, and he had never heard of a vampire with dark circles under his eyes. Of course, Red would be the first person to say to anyone who cared to listen that appearances are deceiving. He hadn't spent the entirety of his twenty-five years of life being mistaken for a young girl without learning _something_, after all.

"Well, young lady?" the count prompted. Red wanted to bash his head against the nearest solid object. Being mistaken for a young woman all the time was really beginning to get on his nerves.

"I'm not a girl!" he exclaimed, suddenly and irrationally angry. He popped the stopper from the neck of the bottle and flicked the water in a rather impressive arc over the small distance between him and the count, splashing the man full in the face.

There was silence for several moments after this, during which the count failed to melt or explode or whatever it was vampires were supposed to do when splashed with holy water. Instead, he blinked several times and looked incredibly confused. "Um...?" he said. Red wasted no time in digging out his cloves of garlic, which he flung with as much strength as he could muster directly at the count, who had the sense to see them coming and duck. Red was somewhat confounded by this point – the man seemed immune to both holy water and garlic – and rather desperately dug out his cross, which he held in front of him as though it were a shield.

The count looked positively flummoxed at this point, and Red was vaguely aware of Robert somewhere off to his right, muffling sniggers into his palm.

"Don't come any closer!" Red exclaimed, glaring at the confused and wet man before him.

"Robert, _do_ try to contain yourself," the count admonished absently as he continued to stare at Red, or, more accurately, at the cross in Red's hand, and stood perfectly still. Red almost sighed with relief—the holy water and garlic had failed, but it seemed as though the cross at least had some power over the undead noble.

"Where did you get _that!?_" the count demanded after several tense moments, springing forward before Red could react and wresting the cross from his hands. "This cross is a family heirloom, stolen some twenty years ago!" He brought it close to his face, examining the intricate and rust-coated carvings with care for a time before turning his dark gaze back at Red. "Explain yourself. Now."

Red, bereft of all of his defenses, once again considered simply running away...but to what? To that blasted Fae, that's what. He had a very pessimistic outlook on his chances at correctly guessing the grinning bastard's name, and was even now resigning himself to the loss of his virginity to the smarmy wanker. Given what he had to look forward to, being infected with vampirism or even being killed didn't seem like such bad alternatives. If he were a vampire, perhaps he could take some sort of revenge on Neil for being such an arse, and if he were dead...well, he wouldn't care any more if he were dead, now would he?

"The count asked you a question, young man." Robert's voice snapped him from his depressing thoughts about his equally depressing future. He felt the man's strong hand wrap around his arm in a vice-like grip, and knew that running away was no longer an option.

"I have to kill you so you'll let Hannah go free," he said finally, dully. He was trapped and cornered by circumstances beyond his control, and his chances of escaping unscathed appeared to be next to nothing.

The count didn't seem to know what to make of this statement. "You know my angel Hannah?"

Red blinked. That was the second time the man had referred to Hannah as his 'angel'. He was beginning to get the feeling that he didn't know the whole story to what was going on. And since it didn't look as though the count or his manservant were getting ready to kill him, or worse—yet—he wondered if there might be a way to learn the whole truth.

"I'll tell you everything if you'll answer me one question before hand," he said, staring critically at the count, who raised an eyebrow.

"I hardly think you're in any position to be bargaining, young man," he replied.

"Just the one question," Red insisted. "Why did you lock Hannah up?"

The count drew himself up and stared impressively down at Red. "_Not_ that it's any of your business, but I admit to subjecting my beloved to such base treatment in order to dispel the terrible rumors her boor of a father was spreading about her. Once I have proved that she _can_ spin straw to gold as her idiot relation claimed, I shall take her as my bride, and she will reside with me in my manor here, her reputation intact."

"So you were never going to kill her?" Red asked, aghast at the implications it would mean for _him_ if the answer was negative.

"No, of course not! Wherever did you get such an idea?"

"I believe it was the bit where you claimed that if she did not produce as required, her life was forfeit," Robert answered for Red, his voice full of amusement.

The count frowned. "Of course I had to say that! I am Count Victor von Verkoltenstein! Such drama is necessary to maintain my image as a cold-hearted and aloof ruler of peasants and ignorants!"

Robert snickered, but Red was less than amused. He felt as though his stomach had dropped to his knees, and then decided that that was not low enough and continued on to his feet. There was absolutely no purpose to his being here. His godmother had sent him on a wild goose-chase which had resulted in him basically promising his virginity to one of the _very_ last people in this world he would ever have considered giving it to otherwise. All because of some idiot who was more concerned with filling his life with unnecessary drama than in maintaining a quiet and peaceful village.

It was official: Red hated his life.

-----------------------

"I'm...nervous."

"Don't be," Red assured her. _I should be the one pacing around like a trapped lion._ "Everything will turn out for the best--it usually does." Empty words, really. But who was he truly trying to cheer up? Hannah or himself? He rubbed his arms a bit, frowning as his brown eyes anxiously glanced around the clearing outside Hannah's cell for any sign of the lecherous fairy who wanted his virginity.

"I find...that...a little hard...to believe," Hannah stated, a frown on her own pretty face. "I've been thinking...What will happen...once this is all over?"

The baker looked at the miller girl, but did not give her an answer. He had contemplated what would happen to her--hell, he knew exactly what would happen to her once this whole orange Fae business was over and done with. No matter the outcome of his naming game, Hannah would get swept away by a handsome man (said handsome man being the Count Victor von Verkoltenstein) and then they would get married in a grand ceremony (probably at night, considering the aforementioned count's habits) and live happily ever after with lots of adorable little undead children of the night and cute little puppies--or bunnies. Bunnies were good, too. Yes, bunnies of the night.

As for Red? Things were a lot more uncertain. Should he succeed in figuring out the perverted fairy's name within the allotted time frame he was given, he could go scott free and with his precious virginity intact. However, should he fail (and with circumstances as they were, he knew this was by far the most likely option) he would be subjected to only Apple knew what sort of horrors as the fairy took advantage of his innocent body.

Red looked at the darkening sky with a raised eyebrow.

Alright, well, maybe not _that_ innocent. Mind you, despite himself and his prudeness, he was _still_ a healthy twenty-five year old man who experienced all the things men did at the peak of their life--minus copious amounts of intercourse, naturally--but he had enough distractions (i.e., imminent doom) to keep him from pursuing such things on a regular basis...

"Don't worry," Hannah said, snapping Red out of his reverie, "Wolf will pull through."

Wolf! It always came back to that man, didn't it? He was always leaping in unexpectedly and saving Red's hide recently, often at great personal risk. And for what? The only answer Red could come up with was that Wolf still wanted to get into his pants, even after ten years of rejection and discouragement. One of the last things he'd said to Red before he'd taken off again proved that much. Even with this knowledge, Red still could not fathom why the man continued to hang around him; certainly there were other people from whom he could extract the same satisfaction? Why had he set his sights on Red specifically?

Constant puzzling on the topic still yielded no answer that made even a tiny bit of sense to Red, so he decided to put the entire matter out of his mind and focus on the problem at hand.

"How do you know Wolf, anyway?" he asked.

Or as out of his mind as he could push it.

"We met...a few months ago," Hannah told him. "I shared dinner...with him, and he slept...in the barn."

Red blinked at this information.

"By himself?" he asked, almost incredulously. He had trouble picturing a man as obviously horny as Wolf passing up the chance for a free lay—especially when he appeared to have run into a young woman whose practical outlook on life did not include such old-fashioned concepts as 'chastity'.

"Just so," Hannah agreed.

"He wasn't interested in...erm..." Red didn't know quite how to word his next question, so he trailed off awkwardly, blushing.

"He...might have been," Hannah admitted. "But he said...very firmly...that he didn't want to."

Red was, to put it lightly, rather confused by this information. "Didn't want to?" he repeated, but before Hannah could respond, their private discussion was interrupted by a new voice.

"Good evening, my beautiful Hannah, my charming Red." In a flash of orange citrus sparkles, the gold-spinning Fae appeared, grinning smirk firmly affixed to his handsome features. Red felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck prick at the sight. And he'd always thought the self-satisfied leers he'd gotten from _Wolf_ were lecherous! The silver-haired man's ogling could be more closely associated with love-sick gazes when compared side by side with the looks he was getting from _this_ creature!

"Don't look at me like that," Red growled, clenching his teeth tightly. The fairy batted his eyes innocently, and floated disturbingly close to the baker, their faces a mere few inches apart. He had the urge to step back or run away even, but stubbornness and pent up emotions from years of this sort of treatment made him stay his ground for once and glare back with the force of a hundred angry, raging bulls (or two hundred and twenty stampeding unicorns; or maybe even six hundred and sixty-six very large, rabid pink bulldogs on steroids) and all the ineffectiveness of a small toy poodle yipping madly from behind a large fence. The Fae backed away very slightly and tutted at him.

"Now, now, now, my dear...is that any way to treat Hannah's savior?" he asked coyly, examining his well manicured fingers with slight disinterest. He slinked an arm around Red's shoulders and let his free hand lift up the baker's chin. "I have been very generous up until now, my delectable little beauty, and it is out of the goodness of my heart that I'm not...ravishing you until the light of day right here and now."

The obnoxious orange fairy had a point there, but that did not mean that he would willingly submit like some bloody tart in one of those trashy romance novels.

He none-too-gently shoved his elbow into the fairy's gut and stepped away. The action had the expected effect Red wanted, but only for a few seconds. The other male simply laughed afterwards, remarking on Red's feistiness.

"I _am_ looking forward to our approaching tryst! What fun we shall have!" he said dreamily, clasping his hands and staring off into space.

"Pedophile," Red muttered.

"Come now, come now!" the orange Fae said, snapping out of his daze. He either hadn't heard Red's last remark or was choosing to ignore it, for he wrapped an arm once more around Red's shoulders. Before Red could so much as protest, he was engulfed in the over-powering citrus scent and accompanying sparkles that the Fae employed in abundance, and when his vision cleared, he saw that he was standing inside the dungeon, next to Hannah.

"I _did_ say I'd give you a fair chance to guess my name, and I'm a Fae of my word, so tonight I shall spin and listen to your guesses, my dear. Tomorrow we can carry on elsewhere, once dear Hannah is settled nice and safe with the gold." The Fae seated himself at the spinning wheel and began feeding straw into it. Red glared at him for a moment, arms crossed, before a thought occurred to him.

"But won't it be distracting, me calling out names willy-nilly all night?" he asked. "Maybe we should post-pone the beginning of the guessing game until tomorrow evening?"

The Fae looked up from his work, orange eyes gleaming in the dim light and a knowing smirk dancing about his lips. "Ah, ah, ah!" he chastised. "Trying to stall for more time, are we? Clever, my dear, but it won't work. You may begin guessing now, or you may wait until tomorrow night, but if you take the latter option, you will only have two nights to guess instead of three." He waggled his eyebrows at Red and returned his attention to the spindle, which was spitting out fine gold thread at an alarming rate under his expert ministrations.

Red glowered silently for several moments. He jumped a little when Hannah put a hand on his arm, and turned to look at her. Her expression was difficult to determine, but he felt she probably meant it to be encouraging. Scowling even harder, Red plopped himself down on the hard-packed earth floor and crossed his legs.

"Terrance," he said.

"Not even close."

"Milliard. Pierre. Ashley. Vernon."

"Keep guessing."

"Neville. Dudley. Harold. James?"

No, no, no, and no."

"Ronald, Dean, Thomas, Fredrick, Charles, Arthur, Percy, George, Lee, Jordan, Cedric?"

"None of the above."

And on it went.

The night progressed, with Red blurting out any name that came to mind. Hannah piped up occasionally with an offering or two of her own, but all guesses were met with the same answer.

Near dawn, Red was getting frustrated. "Look," he said. "How do I know I can trust you? What if I've already said your name and you lied and said I hadn't?"

"You haven't said my name," the Fae assured him. "And I would not mislead you if you had. I set the rules of this game, and I must abide by them as much as you. But now," he said, as he fed the very last of the straw into the spindle, and watched as it emerged in a string of the thinnest, purest gold from the other end. "My task for the night is complete, and I must bid you both a very fond farewell. I shall see you again tomorrow night, my sweet, and you may continue to guess then." And with an elaborate bow and a kiss blown in Red's direction, the Fae departed, leaving behind a pile of gold, a fresh citrus scent, and...

"YOU LOCKED ME IN THE BLOODY DUNGEON, YOU PEDOPHILIC PONCE!"

------------------------

To say that Victor von Verkoltenstein woke up to a glorious morning would have been a gross overstatement. The fact of the matter is: the man was just not a morning person—or a daylight person in general. It wasn't as if he had a skin condition that prevented him from venturing outside during the decent hours of the day or anything. It was just that he preferred the night, and death to anyone who got him up before the sun fully set.

Then again, this morning was not at all glorious to begin with at any rate, so he was pretty much jerked into a very awkward state of awakening involving him blearily trying to swipe at his manservant, Robert.

"It's too early to be awake, Mommy," the count mumbled, falling back into his coffin with a muffled _thud_. He turned on his side and tried to curl up into a ball, only to realize that he was not talking to his mother (Overpower forbid that the barmy woman got within ten feet of him) and that it is nigh impossible to curl up in a stiff coffin. The man, after a sufficient amount of reflection (translation: goading on Robert's part), rolled out of his coffin to meet the blasphemous day…or, at least, tried to, as rolling out of a coffin was about as easy as trying to go into the fetal position in one. Falling gracelessly on the floor, his 'bed' came tumbling down after him, landing open end first with a loud crack that echoed throughout the mostly silent room.

Victor said something.

"What was that, sir?" Robert asked, looking rather smug as he stared down where his lord and master laid prostate. "I can't hear you past the three-inch thick wood this morning. It's muffling what you're saying." The servant watched as the casket was unceremoniously kicked aside—something his master was surely to regret once his temper cooled—and Victor was soon rising from the almost early grave like the undead.

"Nice boxers."

"Shut up, Robert," the count snapped irritably, looking around for a clock. When he spotted one, he groaned pitiably and fought the urge to smash his head repeatedly against the wall at the utter unholiness of the hour. Nine in the morning was no time for him to be awake—for any _sane_ person to be awake. He had long ago given up on the world around him being the least bit rational, but at least people respected the fact that he couldn't stand daylight and wished to sleep into the late hours of the afternoon. He was sure not even the mention of his Hannah would—

"The third night is over and Hannah is successful again."

—wake him up any faster than it already did. He snapped to attention like a private in front of his drill sergeant.

"So, it's finally over?" he asked, his eyes lighting up. He clapped his hands together, suddenly very giddy and happy. It was over! Hallelujah, the charade was almost to an end! He could finally cast aside the many facades he had put up in order to keep this elaborate plan in motion. No longer did he have to hide behind a wretched white mask (wearing it casually, though, was an entirely different story). He could look upon his darling and she could gaze back upon him in return. "May I finally be able to take my lovely Hannah into my arms? May I listen sweetly to that angelic—"

"Uh, there is one other thing," Robert interjected quickly, stopping Victor in mid gush. The man positively fumed at him, but he continued on nonetheless as they were short on time had more important matters to attend to. "The matter of Mister Reaper…"

The count cringed. Ah, yes. The man who would…

"I suppose that I can safely assume that not everything went very well last night, hm?" he asked, and received a nod in reply. The noble sighed and ran a hand through his untidy hair."Well...I suppose the least we can do is offer to help him again," he said, recalling the encounter even as he spoke. Red had seemed so _terribly_ opposed to the idea of consorting with the mysterious Fae who had been so generous to his Hannah, Victor couldn't help but empathize. "But first!" his thoughts turned back to the matter at hand, the matter which was clearly the most important: "I must propose to my beloved! Come, Robert!" And with that, the count swept dramatically out of his room. Robert, rather than following, waited patiently for several seconds, and, sure enough, Victor returned to the room somewhat sheepishly a few moments later.

"Stop laughing," he ordered as his manservant moved to gather suitable clothing, snickering as he went.

---------

"I'll help you...make a list," Hannah said to the very furious and frustrated Red, attempting to get him to emerge from his self-induced pity-party, which he was currently holding seated in a corner of her cell. "We have...all day...to think of names," she continued, crouching next to him and placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He jerked slightly at the touch, and his eyes focused on hers. She smiled at him in what he supposed was meant to be an encouraging manner, and he tried his best to return it.

"Thanks, Hannah," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He'd been awake all night, and was now very sleepy...

BANG! Red nearly jumped out of his skin as the door to the cell opened with a dramatic crash. A moment later a man strode into the cell. Red recognized the count at once, though half of his face was hidden behind a white mask. Hannah straightened from her crouch calmly, where almost anyone else would have leapt to their feet.

"It's...you!" she said, surprise evident in her voice.

The count approached Hannah and swept her into his arms without saying anything, and kissed her straight on the lips. She stiffened at first, in surprise or fear, Red couldn't tell, but after a moment he saw her relax into Victor's arms and begin to return the kiss. Watching the two, Red couldn't help the stab of envy that seemed to twist in his heart. Victor eventually pulled away, and Red could sense his reluctance, even from across the room.

"My beloved Hannah," he began, staring soulfully into her eyes from behind his mask. "I am about to reveal my identity to you, as I have wanted to many times in these past few months, but first, I must ask you a question,"

"...Yes?" Red thought she sounded a little breathless.

"Beautiful Hannah, celestial maiden of song, I must know:" he paused dramatically, and Red rolled his eyes. After several moments, the silence extended beyond the realm of the dramatic and tripped almost apologetically into the realm of the slightly awkward; it appeared that the count had become lost in the soulful contemplation of Hannah's dark eyes.

"...Yes?" Hannah asked again, though this time she sounded less breathless and more amused, as though she were well acquainted with this act. Red could see a very small smile on her face. The count seemed to blink and return to himself at the sound of her voice.

"Beloved Hannah," he began again, visibly steeling himself from becoming lost once again in her eyes. "Will you do me the great honor of consenting to become my wife?"

The expression on Hannah's face could now be mistaken for nothing other than a smile, and a very beautiful one it was too, Red had to admit with some surprise. The expression changed her entire countenance, from vaguely unsettling to unquestioningly lovely. "I would be delighted, my lord," she said, reaching up with one hand and removing Victor's mask. The face of the man beneath looked both immensely pleased and somewhat surprised.

"When did you figure it out?" he asked, a somewhat mysterious question to Red.

"Just now, when you came in," she told him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning up to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. "Though I admit, I have suspected for some time now..."

Victor continued to look both surprised and delighted, and Red was interested to note that the hesitation with which Hannah usually spoke disappeared when she addressed the count. He also noted that her usually reserved behavior (well, it seemed rather reserved to him) had flown out the window when she pulled the noble down for another kiss, and the baker had to cough several times before they did the deed on the pile of golden thread in front of him.

"Red! Bless you; I didn't see you there—"

"I wonder why?" Red asked sarcastically under his breath.

"—in fact, I hadn't expected to see you there at all. What are you doing here?" the nobleman asked, too happy to remember the earlier words of his servant. He was just so elated that his darling miller girl had agreed to marry him; he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. When he felt, rather than saw, the heated glare point at his head, he paid extra special attention to the very disgruntled look on the other man's (he would have thought 'boy', but he had already been told of his past woes for being mistaken for being a young girl once and did not wish to repeat the experience again) face.

"Oh, I just let myself in, is all," Red said in irritation, hands on his hips. "I was brought in here by the fairy that is helping your 'angel' and he _left_ me here to be found by you." He threw his hands up in frustration as he remembered exactly why he was stuck in a situation that could have just cleared itself up had the man not speaking to him has just simply asked the girl of his dreams to marry him instead of going through all of this senselessness. "And, by the way, I'm _lovely_, thanks."

Victor cowered behind Hannah. "I was just asking…"

------------

The day passed by with everyone generally sleeping the hours away. Well, mostly.

While Hannah napped with Victor, Red had been enlisted in the kitchen to help Robert whip up a wedding cake for the future festivities. The count had been dead set on marrying his bride-to-be as soon as possible—later that day was what he was aiming for—so this meant that lots of preparations had to be made. And since someone had let slip that Red was a baker, he had been asked to help. He couldn't very well say no when the miller girl had asked him so very nicely and had promised to help him with his current situation, whatever that entailed.

After several hours and the completion of the first three layers of the cake (Victor inexplicably wanted a _seven_ layer cake), the future newlyweds come down from the upper floors of the mansion, looking thoroughly disheveled and very giddy about something. Red could only guess at what had happened between them when they should have been sleeping, and several dirty images sprung up to mind, but he blamed that on the fact that he was so tired at this point that he was seeing two Victors instead of one.

He let Robert take care of the last three layers in the oven as the other three were left to cool down on an iron rack, with instructions to get started on the frosting so he could start decorating the cake when he returned to the kitchen.

"Ah, Red, there you are," Victor said much too jovially for the baker's liking. He regretted all over again his lack of planning which caused him to forget to bring a stake and mallet with him on his vampire hunting excursion the prior day. Of course, as Victor was not actually a vampire, he would have been charged with murder once the authorities found out, but that certainly would have been better than having to deal with a perverted fairy who wanted his virginity and a silly nobleman with plans so complicated even a philosopher would have blown his brains trying to figure out the reason behind them. "Hannah—the lovely and wise—and I have come up with something to help you with your plight, as you have helped us quite a bit."

Red's mood perked up; he looked at the couple expectantly.

"We came across…the idea when we were figuring out…names for our future children," Hannah began, smiling happily all the while. Red smiled in return, only guessing at the joy a child would bring to this household. "And as Victor suggested...calling our firstborn son Erik—"

"A fine, strong name of sentimental value," Victor interjected.

"—I thought that, maybe it might be…a girl, and we might have to...call her Erika...instead," the dark-haired woman finished good-humoredly, rolling her eyes at her future husband. She looked at Red eagerly, and saw that her friend was rather confused and went on to clarify what she meant. "What I mean is…we…thought maybe…that you could try girl's names instead?"

Red blinked, and, despite his hopelessly tired state, almost immediately saw the logic in Hannah's proposal. The smarmy Fae seemed very confident that his name was un-guessable, which meant that it was either terribly uncommon or horrendously unlikely. He nodded, stifling a yawn as he did so.

"That sounds like a good idea," he said, smiling gratefully at Hannah. "I'd better get started with that list..."

Hannah frowned and stepped up to him, taking his arm firmly in her hand. "I rather...think not," she said. "You've been awake...all night, and I...understand..._someone_...has...drafted you into baking...a cake...instead of allowing you...to rest." As she spoke, she tugged him after her away from the kitchen and into the mansion, and he went meekly, waiting for her to finish speaking. "_You_ are going...straight to bed...Victor and I...shall worry about...the list of names."

Red tried to protest, but was foiled by another yawn. When he finally managed to close his mouth, he tried once more: "That's very kind of you, but—"

"No buts," Hannah interrupted. "You're going to be...awake all night...tonight as well, guessing. You must sleep...sometime." And with that she very firmly ushered him into a guest room. The heavy velvet curtains were pulled shut over the window. On the large feather bed, he could see that the comforter was turned down and the pillows were fluffed.

"Well," Red said, as he saw the luxurious quarters awaiting him. "Maybe a couple hours wouldn't hurt..." He probably wouldn't be able to sleep at all, or he wouldn't be able to sleep _well_, what with the imminent doom he had hanging over his head and all.

"Yes," Hannah said firmly, tugging him all the way to the bedside. He sat on the gloriously soft mattress and kicked off his boots, and that was really all he had time to do before sleep snatched his last conscious thought away. Still wearing his wrinkled and now somewhat dirty clothes, he fell back into the soft embrace of the feather bed, literally asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Hannah smiled in satisfaction and tucked him in gently, and then left the chamber, softly closing the door behind her as she went.

-------------

"Good evening, my lovely one."

Red was jerked most unpleasantly out of his dreams, in which black leather seemed to feature very prominently, to discover that stretched out next to him on the bed as if he belonged there was the orange Fae.

"HANNAH!" Red shouted, almost in a panic, as he rolled away from the Fae and onto the floor.

"That's not my name," the Fae smirked gently. The bedroom door burst open, and Hannah entered, a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand.

"Red, I'm sorry...I didn't realize it had gotten so late...Oh." She had caught sight of the cause of Red's panicky yell.

"Good evening, Hannah my dear," the Fae smiled languorously at the miller-girl.

"Good evening," she said back, politely enough. "Red, are you...alright?"

Red was sitting up from where he had landed on the floor with a groan. "No," he muttered. "I'm not." Hannah hurried to his side and helped him to his feet.

"I convinced Victor...to postpone the wedding," she told him. "He's agreed to wait...until the day after tomorrow,"

"Great," Red groaned. That was just enough time for him to not guess the orange Fae's name and lose his precious virginity to the perverted wanker.

"Here," Hannah offered him the papers she had come in carrying. Red took them and glanced at the top page. It was covered with neat rows of names, mostly girl's names from the looks of things. "Have faith," she said, giving him a small hug. The fairy coughed to recapture their attention, idly tracing circles on the bed sheets with one well-manicured finger as he lounged upon the bed.

"As much as I love the fact that we're this much closer to…making love together, sweet Red, I'm afraid that I must adhere to the rules of fairy fairness and tell you that you're burning sun and moon," the orange-clad male told the dark haired-pair before him, looking for all the world like he could care less. "You've already wasted about an hour and a half…let's get started shall we?" he proposed, sitting up on the bed.

And so the guessing game began for the second night. Red used Hannah's list right off the bat, trying to say each name without looking embarrassed. After all, he was reading off a list of girls' names to a male fairy, who had obviously slept with people thusly named in some sort of exploit he'd rather not have the displeasure of imagining...

"...Betty, Penelope, Noah?"

"On the table, in the kitchen, on the kitchen table..."

Red blanched.

"Ruby, Jessie, Misty, Lily, Daisy?"

"Near the sea, over the sea, in a boat, in a boat under the sea, in a boat on fire on the sea..."

The baker swallowed hard, sternly ordered himself not to vomit, and had to take a small break to drink down the water Hannah brought him.

"Sabrina, Whitney, and, dare I ask, Claire?" The dark-haired man spared a nervous glance from the list of names and saw the insufferable fairy (who had definitely gotten around) leer at him.

"On her back, on my back, and on the back of a horse," was the orange-haired fairy's gleeful reply. Red grimaced and looked over the next name.

"Uh...Juliet?"

The fairy raised a brow. "What do I look like, some blind woodsman?" Red had no idea what he meant by that remark, but continued on with the list well into the night, until he ran out of names and had to resort to picking them out himself with Hannah giving her two cents every once in a while for support.

In the end, though, the sun was peeking through the curtains much sooner than Red wanted it to, and the orange fairy took his leave, promising to return that evening for the final round. Red felt his stomach twist in a normally anatomically impossible manner, and he stared dumbly at the spot where the Fae had disappeared.

"Red, don't worry," Hannah said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We still have...tonight...and...Wolf had not come back yet."

Red gave a hollow laugh. Wolf. What had he said? "I won't return until I bring with me his name." And it was already the morning of the third day. Did that mean he wouldn't be returning at all? That was more than likely—with the sort of luck Red was having with his guessing, he couldn't imagine that Wolf was doing any better. But...if Wolf didn't come back with the Fae's name, did that mean...he wouldn't ever see him again? The thought caused his stomach to perform further heretofore thought-to-be-impossible contortions, and he scowled.

"Do you want...to go back to sleep?" Hannah asked, dragging him out of his thoughts. "Or would you like...to help with a new list?"

Red blinked, and stared at the bed upon which the perverted Fae had been until recently sitting.

"I'm not tired," he said in response to Hannah's question.

"Alright," she said, and stood up from the chair she'd been sitting in during the guessing and stretched. "Why don't you...join me...for breakfast?"

"Thanks."

-------------

The Ironic Overpowers were at it again—or as 'at it again' as an angel and demon could be, anyway. One really couldn't expect those two to live absolutely peaceably with each other in total utter bliss—uninterrupted moments filled up to the brim with cheesy metaphors and not-so-subtle subtext—without a few, untimely, irrational spats or two. Or, in their case, the need to become incredibly lovey-dovey with one another as they were wont to do…which makes the earlier statements rather irrelevant, so the narrator apologizes if the reader expected the following scene of the two lounging in their favorite spot in Who-Knows-Where to be a bit more exciting and filled with heated words.

Therefore, the narrator will simply get things over with so that the reader can stop reading irrelevant filler statements that only serve to make the word count go up. Unless the reader would wish to allow the narrator to procrastinate further by continuing to read this utter drivel instead of just skipping ahead to the good bits involving the reader's favorite characters...Then again, as tempting as that might be, the reader might be worried that if they just simply skimmed past the bit involving the two true ruling powers of this strange and magical world that a piece of information crucial to the plot might be missed, which will inevitably lead to confusion for the reader instead of understanding in later scenes.

But, then again, foreshadowing has never been a great forte of modern literature—or if it were some sort of favored tool used to write twenty-first century stories, it would probably be so heavy it could make a killer whale appear as some heroine addicted fashion waif who was actually thinner than a tenth of a nanometer—and no, that was not an exaggeration. Half of the readers of this fair story have probably at least guessed as to what sort of ending the Ironic Overpowers have in mind for our heroes, and the second half could probably tell the first half exactly what will happen, and in very explicit detail besides.

These explicit details are, of course, the flights of fancy of several depraved fan-girls who should, in most cases, get out more often and find real romance instead of hanging onto the fictional homosexual romances of two fairy tale characters turned gay. What is hoped for and what is to be actually written are often two different things, and the Ironic Overpowers hate the idea of becoming predictable over a period of time. Plus, one can only find and type out so many euphemisms for the word 'penis' without snickering at the computer screen like a demented loon (and, for the record, neither of the Overpowers is demented nor loony, but it's the thought one puts into a compliment that makes them love their adoring worshippers evermore).

And also, what is this fascination with graphic scenes within a story? What is its necessity? Many have asked this question—to others as well as to themselves—but no one has made an even half-decent, reasonable answer that can earn it the title of ineff—er…'beyond words'. The best one can expect as an answer to this nigh unanswerable conundrum is that 'it gets ratings'. Perhaps the Overpowers know why a writer would stoop so low as to graphically write about fornication in all of its explicit glory, as it is the beginning and end of all cosmic jokes, but it would be highly unethical to reveal such things to mortal eyes, so the narrator, once again, apologizes to the reader for even suggesting such a thing and therefore piquing interest when there isn't actually any call at all for that sort of thing at this point in the story, canonical or otherwise.

This brings this narrator back to the point of the matter, of course, which is what the Ironic Overpowers are doing in their place not held by the rules of Time. As expected with such a scene, the angel is once again drinking her tea, while the demon is chugging stereotypically away at her cream soda.

Oddly enough, they were up to nothing at the moment, and were simply enjoying a moment of repose after a long and hard day at work, weaving the threads of the story together in immaculate and strange patterns.

So whatever was currently happening in their world was, in no way shape or form, their fault.

And this, dear reader, is called irony.

-------------

Victor and Robert both insisted on helping Red and Hannah work on tonight's list of names, and would not be deterred by Red's protests. He supposed, as he trudged away from the manor's front door and into the surrounding woods, that he was grateful for their help; Robert especially had had some interesting ideas involving more exotic names, and they were all written down neatly in a large bundle of papers that Red clutched in one hand.

He was walking out into the forest by himself. His cynical outlook on life gave him very little hope for success, even with the large list his new friends had helped him compile, and he didn't want anyone keeping him company to have to leave when the inevitable happened. He also did not want the inevitable to happen in the count's manor. He wanted it to happen as quietly and as discreetly as possible, so that he could slink home afterwards without having to face anyone.

Red was more or less resigned to his fate now; he wasn't happy about it at all, to be sure, but...at least the Fae in question wasn't bad-looking. He had that to be thankful for, at least. Actually, if Red would just admit it to himself, the striking orange fairy was really quite handsome, and if he had not known what a terrible git the Fae was, Red might have found himself attracted to him.

He sighed as he settled himself down on the ground, with his back to a large tree. He supposed he was being silly, trying to save himself for that one special person—whoever he may be—especially considering that most maidens didn't even bother with that sort of silly nonsense nowadays. But still, it would have been nice if his first time had been with someone he cared for, instead of with someone he absolutely loathed.

"Good evening, beautiful Red. On your own tonight, I see?"

"Casper," Red snapped.

The orange fae blinked, and grinned. "That is not my name," he said.

"Melchoir?"

"Try again."

"Balthasar."

"Way off. This is fun."

Red allowed himself a brief moment to glower angrily at the Fae, before turning his attention fully back to his papers and began to read off names in earnest. It was dark in the forest, but Red's memory was good, and the shadowy prompts of the names written on the paper were enough to get him to recall what was written there.

"Panzimanzi, Gilitrutt, Batzibitzili?" Those had been some of Robert's suggestions; he was, Red had been surprised to discover, apparently a very well-read individual.

"No, no, and...ew."

And on it went. The hours went by, and even the thick sheaf of papers Red had carried with him was soon exhausted. He was running out of time, and running out of ideas. Long periods of silence stretched between the two. The orange Fae was reclining against a tree near Red's, his legs crossed and his fingers laced behind his head. He jiggled one foot and smiled serenely across at Red, who sat rigidly with his back to his tree, glowering at his feet.

The silence stretched longer and longer, only occasionally broken by the Fae, who hummed a cheerful tune to himself from time to time. Red had more or less given up completely at this point; he was now busy trying to mentally prepare himself for what lay ahead. He shivered, wishing he had thought to bring a blanket or something. The night had been cold, and somehow Red was getting the impression that the Fae across from him was going to insist upon claiming his virginity as soon as the sun had risen in the east, and that there would be no time for silly nonsense such as looking for a more suitable place to 'do the deed'.

Red swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The silence that stretched over the forest in the pre-dawn hour seemed incredibly oppressive. The baker flinched slightly at the sound of a twig breaking somewhere behind him and looked up, but the orange Fae had not moved. He was quick to notice Red's motion, however.

"Well, my sweet? Did you want to begin early?"

Red glared and opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short when he heard a whispered voice:

"_Over my dead body._"

The Fae's long ears pricked, and he sat up, a frown replacing the lazy smile. "What was that?" he demanded.

Red blinked. "Wolf?" he whispered, glancing around in order to find the silver haired man. He was back? He was _back_! Did that mean that…?

Silence settled quickly, and Red stared dumbly as the Fae narrowed his eyes at a figure standing near.

"Hello, Red." The familiar voice came from his left, and he whirled about and stared into an equally familiar pair of amber eyes, which glowed smugly above a self-satisfied smirk.

---------------------

Kiwi's note: In other parts of the world, the character 'Rumplestiltskin' is known by many different names; Panzimanzi, Gilitrutt, and Batzibitzili are three such. We thought it would be amusing and ironic to include them in the list of names Red guessed, and so we have.


	8. Wolf's Reign

**CHAPTER 8**

Wolf's Reign

There is nothing more annoying than Goblins--especially vacationing goblins too far out west for their own good. This particular lot was a chatty bunch dressed in horrendously gaudy colors meant to mask the fact that they were nasty little gnarly brown things in desperate need of showers and lessons on good manners. Goblins tend to be grabby little kleptomaniacs as well, and even more so when vacationing. They deem anything they see outside of their realm to be 'souvenirs', so one has to often watch what is kept on display when goblins decide to patronize one's shop.

Wolf had run into a group of these while wandering about, trying to figure out a way of heroically getting that blasted fairy's name. He had gone off radiating--no--_dripping_ with confidence, so sure of the fact that he would come through for his beloved Red as always. And, as always, he was highly stumped. He wasn't too worried yet, though, as all of his Red-saving ventures usually began this way. The goblins were little to no help, as he could barely get them to be at a reasonable enough volume so they could hear his question.

"Anyone here know any perverted orange fairies?"

The silver-haired man was run out of the clearing faster than you could say 'angry mob'.

Muttering admonishments to himself that he ought to have known better than to ask a group of goblins anything, Wolf decided to head for town. Even if the possibility of finding someone who knew what he wanted was slim, there was a slightly better chance that someone would be able to direct him to someone else who might know better.

And so Wolf entered Maple Town at slightly before eleven in the morning, and began making inquiries. Taking a lesson from the goblins, he was much more careful about how he worded his question; he also took the time to make himself as charming as possible, which wasn't too difficult. Unfortunately, it didn't do him much good, as the only answers he ever got to his question were variations on the theme of "Sorry, no."

It was getting on into late afternoon when the wizened old man behind the counter of the town's small bookshop suggested he might have better luck asking around in the Fae Forest north of town. Wolf thought this seemed fairly sound advice; not only because it was obvious that Maple Town was a dead end, but also because he'd begun to notice the way some of the village's men-folk were watching their women-folk watching him.

Heh. Well, he _had_ been being pretty damn charming. But he always preferred to leave a town without a fuss, and an angry mob such as the one Red had managed to rouse only yesterday was not high on his list of priorities to instigate today, so he thanked the old man at the bookshop for his advice and took his leave of the town.

Navigating the Fae Forest was not overly tricky. There was a main path, which was the only guaranteed safe one, as much as anything _could_ be guaranteed in a forest swarming with those of Fae lineage. He wasn't too concerned, however, as he had a destination of sorts in mind; he'd been there once already, after following Red's faint trail to return to him his basket. He was confident in his ability to relocate the cozy log cabin inhabited by Red's friend.

He, however, didn't see a randomly placed log and had to flail his arms in an effort to keep from falling face-first into the ground. Of course, since the log was so ill-placed, Wolf misstepped and tumbled face-first into a large tree trunk instead. Nose smarting from the impact, the leather-clad man viciously kicked the offending piece of wood in the side.

"Ow! Blimey! What did I ever do t'you!?" the log demanded, shaking its crumbly, mossy body a bit, which surprised Wolf into jumping back and caused him to smack the back of his head against the same tree he had squashed his nose on. "Hasn't your mother taught you manners, young man? Honestly! First that awful little girl in the red cape trips over me no matter where I go, and now some leather-clad gangster kicks me in the side! Can't a nice, shapely piece of oak like myself decompose in peace!?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't put yourself in the way like that," Wolf said, looking down at the log even as he did so and trying to discern where its mouth was...or where any sort of organ that could create sound might be. Why was he even talking to it? "You have to admit, you were in the middle of the road."

"And you weren't paying much attention, so your excuse is moot."

Wolf looked affronted. "It wasn't an excuse."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know your type...I know all your types...always stepping on us...looking down with your noses—do you know how for granted you take those? I wish I had a nose!" the log said, sounding properly agitated. Some of the bugs living in small holes in its body felt the disturbance and crawled out in alarm, and scattered throughout the cold forest.

"I bet you wish you had a mouth, too," Wolf said sarcastically, though he hadn't actually meant to speak at all.

The log huffed at him, and burst out with a long, angry monologue outlining and detailing all the problems with the world today, starting with men who wore too much leather and moving on from there.

Wolf decided that he was going to call the rude, chatty little piece of wood 'Terrence,' because it sounded like an appropriately annoying yet tree-ish name. He didn't know how a name could sound 'tree-ish', but didn't dwell on the matter too much as he gazed down at the secretly named Terrence the Log, which appeared to be winding up its angry diatribe.

The silver-haired man continued to stare at the oddly enchanted piece of wood, and his amber eyes widened a moment later as the log got up on a bunch of spindly little branches that emerged from somewhere beneath its body and walked off into the woods, presumably to find a new spot where it wouldn't be disturbed anymore by inattentive wandering humans.

As it disappeared from view, Wolf shook his head. "Fairies!" he exclaimed to the sky, chuckling softly. That sentient log was no doubt the product of too much magic floating around the forest, which in and of itself was the result of the large population of fairies that called the woods home. He idly wondered what other strange things he would meet on his way to Red's friend's place.

After further strolling down the path through the snow-covered trees, he stumbled across a highly unusual sight that no doubt spelled lots of trouble down the road—not for him personally, per say, but for someone, he could tell. Hiding behind a large tree, he couldn't help the smile on his face as he watched the little girl talking with the very handsome fairy prince who was with her. This must be some sort of secret meeting, he reasoned, as the prince (one could tell a fairy was royal by whether or not they were black or white; this one was a perfect grey and possessed the silver leaf crown of the heir apparent) frequently glanced over his shoulder as he talked with the child, who seemed quite enamored with him.

It was clear by the gentle way he spoke with her that he was quite fond of the little girl in pink. Wolf wondered if he was waiting impatiently for her to grow up so that he could properly sweep her off her dainty little feet. It was a very sweet image, to see a grown fairy become a human girl's knight in shining armor, gallantly defending her from invisible evils...

Wolf must have caught the two round the end of their fun, as the prince stooped down to kiss the little girl's forehead in farewell before spreading his magnificent crystal-clear butterfly wings, which caught the warm glow of the late afternoon sun and glittered like shifting liquid glass, and took to the air to head home. The girl in pink waved enthusiastically, shouting after him to please visit again soon, that she'd find a way to shake off her older brother and godfather somehow. When the prince was no longer in sight, the child returned to the path and began walking along it in the direction Wolf had been going. The silver-haired man decided that this was probably as good a time as any to make his presence known.

"So that was the crown prince Braith," he remarked, causing the girl to whirl around in fright. As she stared at him, her dark brown eyes wide, he continued, "but that's beside the point...isn't it a bit late for you to be outside, young lady?" he inquired, smiling his most charming smile. He bowed at the waist and was very pleased that the girl quickly found her wits and curtsied in return, the curls in her brown hair bobbing as she did so. Wolf was usually indifferent when it came to children, but he always made exceptions for the cute and polite ones, and this sweetheart was a definite cutie in his book.

Her cheeks were rosy—whether from being caught or from the cold air, the man wasn't sure. She looked at him with wide, inquisitive, and slightly ashamed brown eyes. "I was heading in—really!" she squeaked, fists clenched at her sides. When Wolf merely made a mock-serious, disbelieving face at her, she began to panic slightly and flail her arms about, trying to deny whatever made-up accusations came to mind.

Wolf laughed at this, which caused her to glare crossly at him, and that only served to make him laugh harder. He knew it wasn't nice to laugh at a girl (especially at a little one), but she was very adorable and she reminded him a lot of Red, probably because of her dark red coat, which was buttoned neatly over her pink dress. Speaking of which...

"Do you know anyone by the name of Red Reaper?" he asked the girl kindly, crouching down so that he was at eye-level with her. Surprised, she forgot her anger and stared at him curiously.

"You know Uncle Red?" she asked. She paused a moment, before breaking out in a cheerful and sunny smile. "He's pretty!" she chirped.

Wolf chuckled. "That he is, that he is," he agreed. He sobered up then and looked the girl in the eye, all seriousness now. The virginity of the love of his life was on the line here! "But he's in trouble right now. A bad man has him in his clutches—" so he was stretching the truth a bit, but given the circumstances of the current situation, Red might as well be stuck inside the highest room of the tallest tower somewhere, beset by a dragon at this point. "—And I need all the help I can get. I assume that you're here with your fairy godfather, right? He's a friend of Red's...I think he might be able to help." He could see that the little girl was quick to grasp the import of his message, because her expression as she understood became one of anger; she looked downright furious for a little slip of a girl, outraged that someone wanted to hurt the kind man she'd bonded with the previous day. To an adult, that small amount of time meant practically nothing, but to a child, it seemed like forever.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Come on, come on! We have to go tell Uncle Raddy!" she said, demanding that they take action as soon as possible. She went behind Wolf and tried to push him into moving. He gladly complied, and allowed himself to be ushered by the girl all the way to the little log cabin where she was currently living with her fairy godfather and her older brother.

The sun had set by the time they reached the cozy home of Raddy the Brown, and Wolf felt bad that it looked like he was going to miss the first night of the damned orange fairy's naming game. He'd wanted to swoop in dramatically in a flurry of white snow after kicking in a door and then announcing the twisted orange creature's name in a deep, resonating voice which would make Red swoon into his awaiting arms. He realized that such an occurrence was nigh on impossible (not to mention cheesier than a Wonderland Cheshire cheese cat, the kingdom's number one export), but he was allowed to fantasize.

"Gretel! Gretel, where are you?" a light tenor called from within the house. "It's time for dinner!"

"I'm here, Uncle Raddy!" the little brunette shouted in reply. "And I brought a friend!" As an aside, she whispered to Wolf, "Don't tell him about Braith, okay? It's just our secret."

Wolf nodded solemnly, and gave her his word. Then the brown fairy appeared in the doorway, and though Wolf couldn't see his face, he could sense the man's alarm.

"Hello," he said, genially enough. "Gretel, go wash up for dinner," he continued almost immediately after, turning his masked face from Wolf to the little girl, who ran immediately to do as she was told. "What can I do for you?" he asked cautiously, once Gretel was safely inside.

Wolf tried to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. "I'm...a friend of Red's, though he'd probably disagree," he began, glancing at the wooden mask that covered the Fae's face. "There's an orange fairy who presumably lives around here, and he's sort of..." Wolf paused, not sure how to put it delicately.

"Claimed Red for his own?" the brown Fae suggested. Then he sighed. "I suppose you were wondering if I know the bastard's name," he said. It wasn't a question. Wolf blinked in surprise, and nodded. "I guess you might as well come in for dinner, then," he continued, much to Wolf's surprise. "I'll tell you what I can after the children are in bed."

"Uh...thanks," Wolf said, as the brown fairy stepped aside to allow Wolf room to enter. The cabin was warm and cozy, and smelled strongly to Wolf of earth and moss, though most people probably wouldn't notice it. Raddy ushered him to the kitchen and bade him have a seat at the far end, while he sat down at the head of the table with Gretel and her brother seated on either side.

Wolf was surprised again a moment later when Raddy introduced him to the children by name. "This is Wolf, Uncle Red's friend." As soon as he found out Wolf knew Red, the little boy (who Wolf learned was named Hansel) immediately began asking him questions, happy to meet someone who knew 'Uncle Red'. Wolf smiled a bit bemusedly and answered all the boy's inquiries as he ate.

Dinner was a very pleasant affair, as was dessert. Wolf could tell just from the smell who had made the pie Raddy divided amongst the four of them, and he ate his slice slowly, savoring each mouthful reverently.

"Doesn't Uncle Red make yummy pies?" Gretel asked, bouncing happily in her seat as she watched Wolf finish his portion. She had eaten hers quickly, as small children are wont to doing when they are allowed something sweet. Wolf smiled at the little girl.

"The best," he affirmed, guiding the last bit of crust to his mouth with regret.

"Children, clear the table, please," Raddy spoke up. He had been very quiet all throughout dinner, Wolf had noticed. He wondered what the brown Fae was thinking. The children immediately did as they were asked, and the table was cleared in record time. "We won't be a moment," Raddy said to Wolf as he stood as well, moving into the kitchen to assist with the washing up. Wolf paused for a moment, then stood and followed, much to the Fae's surprise. "That's not necessary," he said when Wolf picked up a towel.

"I'd like to help," Wolf responded. Raddy stared at him for a moment, and Wolf wondered what he was thinking; the plain brown mask the Fae wore over his face (had worn all throughout dinner, he realized—how had he managed to eat while wearing that?) prevented Wolf from picking up any visual clues as to what the Fae was thinking. Then he shrugged and nodded.

"Thank you," he said simply, and proceeded to begin washing.

It was several hours later again until Raddy finally sent the children off to bed. Wolf spent the time with the children happily, somewhat to his surprise. He spent quite a bit of it drawing pictures with Gretel, who shared her paper and crayons cheerfully. With each new sheet, however, she would tell him what they would draw together, and then wouldn't let him look at what she was doing until she had finished, and insisted that Wolf not let her look either.

Together they drew dragons, princesses, knights in shining armor...the sorts of romantic things which seemed to fill the little girl's mind. Wolf was somewhat embarrassed that her drawings were quite a bit more skillful than his, though she always praised his efforts, which made him oddly happy.

"Now draw...a bride and groom," she said, handing him a fresh piece of paper and placing his latest drawing (a princess which was little more than a stick-figure in a pink blob of a dress surrounded by six 'swans' that looked more like ducks) carefully next to all their other ones.

"Gretel, it's time for bed," Raddy spoke up from where he was helping Hansel put away the toys they had been playing with.

"Just one more picture, Uncle Raddy!" the little girl begged. Raddy hesitated and seemed about to say no, but changed his mind.

"Alright. But this is the last one," he told her. She smiled and nodded, bending her head immediately to her task. Wolf copied her, grateful that he would soon be able to stop embarrassing himself and speak with Raddy about the orange Fae. He drew a very generic bride and groom, one stick figure wearing a black blob of a tuxedo, the other wearing a shakily outlined white dress and holding a bouquet of pink and yellow flowers.

"Finished?" Gretel asked after several minutes of intense silence. Wolf nodded, and showed her what he had done. Gretel smiled and happily praised his latest abysmal effort, and showed Wolf her picture.

The sort of half-smile he'd been unable to banish in the little girl's presence faded as he looked at her drawing; her groom wore black much as Wolf's had, though he was much more detailed. She'd used a grey crayon to indicate messy, long-ish hair, yellow for the eyes, and black to draw in five small, evenly-spaced hairs on the figure's chin. The groom was holding the hands of his smiling bride, whose long black hair cascaded in loose waves down 'her' back. Her cheerful face contained two large brown eyes and was dotted with freckles, and her bouquet and the flowers in her hair were deep red. Careful block letters at the bottom of the page proclaimed: "For Uncle Wolf. Love, Gretel"

"Gretel?" Raddy's gentle prompt spurred the little girl into motion. She quickly put all of her crayons and paper away while Wolf continued to stare at the picture. He barely noticed when she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek and scampered out of the warm sitting room, followed closely by her godfather.

Wolf sat quietly for several minutes in front of the fire before drawing a shaking breath. Still holding the picture, he stood and made his way outside, where he leaned against the doorframe and drew another shaky breath, welcoming the cold night air into his lungs. Holding the little girl's drawing in one hand, he used the other to find his beat-up pack of cigarettes and match-book. He usually only smoked when he was gambling, but felt an exception was in order now, to calm his nerves if nothing else. Placing the thin sheet of paper between his knees, he quickly struck a match and lit up, inhaling deeply. After thoroughly grinding the match into the earth beneath his foot, he took up the picture again and studied it once more in the dim glow of his cigarette, careful to keep it well out of the way of falling ash.

It wasn't until his cigarette had burned nearly to the filter that Raddy appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, here you are," he said. "The children are in bed now, so we can talk..." he trailed off as he seemed to notice what Wolf was looking at. "Gretel drew that?" he asked, curious. Wolf nodded. Raddy was silent for a long moment, and Wolf dropped the remains of the cigarette and ground it into the frozen earth. "She's very perceptive," he said at last, causing Wolf to glance at him sharply. The wooden mask was still turned towards the drawing in Wolf's hand, which was illuminated by the light from the doorway now instead of his cigarette. Raddy sighed. "Come back inside, and we'll talk," he said, his voice friendlier than Wolf had heard him sound all evening.

"It must be a fairy gift," Wolf mentioned offhandedly.

Raddy's ears twitched and he turned to regard the silver-haired man through the holes of his mask. "What was that?" he inquired politely, sounding a little surprised. He tilted his head to the side in a curious and expectant stance, and waited for Wolf to elaborate.

Now, if there was one thing he had learned from his mother: it was to always keep his promises. His mother (a lovely dark-haired woman who was accident- and rather danger-prone) was one who valued honesty in a person, and often told him that he shouldn't take after his father who had very eccentric and dishonest habits (which was a gross understatement, as Wolf's father could be considered to be stark raving mad at times--a gentleman to be sure, but a mad one nonetheless). So, he would not reveal anything incriminating about Gretel's little tryst with fairy royalty--something that would have put the entire kingdom (as small as it was) into total uproar. Fairies were all about color discrimination just as the merpeople were often species discriminate.

"Children who have fairy godparents are usually blessed with a fairy gift, aren't they?" Wolf asked conversationally, as he stepped inside. "After they're assigned one of course...I am assuming that Hansel and Gretel are one of the Three U's?" The man had never had a fairy godparent himself. He'd always somehow managed to get through whatever hardship came his way on his own, was well loved by his mother and father and...well, maybe his love life sucked a bit, but he was working on that, too! And despite his scruffy exterior, he had been schooled in all sorts of topics in his youth, including fairy culture, which, though insane, was still considered an important subject.

Raddy considered the other man's words while gesturing for him to take a seat in the den next to the slowly dying fire. He came up with an answer after a tiny while. "Well, yes. An extreme case of Unfortunate...err...unfortunately," he said, sitting down on his favorite wooden chair, which creaked slightly under his weight. "But I have no idea what her gift really is, as I am not her original fairy godparent. I'm a surrogate for the both of them, actually." Wolf's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Raddy caught his look and explained. "As I said, a very severe case of Unfortunate circumstances...Almost as bad as Princess Briar Rose..." he said, which earned him a rather disturbed and odd look, but he pressed on. "Two fairies actually died protecting them, which, you've no doubt realized, is the reason why they'd let a brown fairy take care of them instead of some resplendent, cultured, blue fairy."

"Has anyone from the royal family ever taken up a godchild?" Wolf asked curiously, thinking about the pair as they played in the woods. The muddy fairy shook his head.

"No, not that I know of. If one of the royals had ever taken to a human child, it would be a very rare case indeed. Not a lot gets their attention...except, maybe, possibly the elves, but fairies and elves had never exactly gotten along after the elves lost one of their annexed pieces of land all the way out in the western sea...It happened five hundred years ago, and it might have had to do with a curse a fairy put upon the kingdom...that's what the elves say. The royal family keeps telling everyone that the fairies had nothing to do with it and that the elves had it coming anyway." Raddy chuckled at this point, shaking his head."But that's beside the point," he continued a moment later, before Wolf could say anything. "You're here about Red and the orange Fae, and I said I'd tell you what I could."

Wolf nodded and sat up a little straighter, expression intent.

"Well, as I told Red this afternoon when he asked, I can't just..._tell_ you his name," Raddy said, shifting slightly in his chair. Wolf raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "But I know where his mother lives, and she'll be more than happy to tell you all about her son."

Wolf snorted in disbelief. "His mother?"

Raddy cocked his head slightly, as if puzzled. "Well...yes."

"Sorry," Wolf said, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "It's just that I find it hard to picture such a sorry son of a bitch having a mother...seems more likely that a bastard like that would spring from the mildew growing in a damp cave, or something."

This actually caused the brown fairy to laugh out loud. It was a nice laugh, Wolf thought, though it sounded a bit...disused. "Why don't you stay the night?" Raddy asked, shaking his head as he recovered his composure. "I'll walk you over tomorrow and introduce you."

"Thank you," Wolf said.

It was only after he was pulling the blankets of his borrowed bed up to his chin that it occurred to Wolf to wonder why exactly the brown Fae couldn't tell him the name of the orange one, especially since it seemed he knew him. _Oh well,_ he thought. _I can always ask him tomorrow._

---------------------------

_He traced his hands along his lover's pale torso, lovingly placing kisses along the other's jaw. He blew irritably at the long silver hair falling into his face, then tucked it behind an ear before he continued his onslaught of reverent kisses upon the other's body. He smirked as he heard a soft moan from underneath him as he gently scraped a nipple with his teeth. He blew a soft breath before capturing it entirely with his mouth, suckling on it while his hands made quick work with the man's trousers. _

_Ah, well. He __would__ have made quick work of them, but it seemed as though the garment was quite glued to his partner's hips. This led to Wolf to biting a bit too hard on his lover's nipple, but between the other's not-at-all protesting pleasured mewling and him trying to wrestle the pants down to his knees at least, neither of them really noticed. _

_"Just rip it off!" he heard the other male say desperately. _

_Wolf did not need to be told twice as he heard the tone of urgency in the other's voice. _

_"Just...a minute, Red! I almost have...it..." _

_"Oh, for crying out loud!" _

_The submissive whimpering ceased as well as the squirming the dark-haired man had been partaking in while Wolf had his way with his innocent body. Surprised amber eyes met determined brown ones. In a rare spurt of strength, the slimly-built man flipped them over so that he was straddling Wolf's leather-clad hips. (Which was odd, now that he thought about it, because the wolfish man had a habit of just tossing them to the wind the moment he got into bed with someone). _

_"Much better," the baker said with a not-so-innocent little smirk. Like magic, Red managed to get a good portion of Wolf's clothing off--which was everything except his boxers (another strange phenomenon of the dreamscape, as he rarely--if ever--wore any sort of underwear underneath his tight leather trousers), all while still straddling him so he couldn't move. _

_Not that Wolf minded of course. _

_"How do you like me now, Wolf?" _

_Wolf let out a small yelp. _

_"It's nice...isn't it?" he pressed, his voice smooth as velvet._

_Oh yes...especially when Red __grinded__ like that. _

_Wolf closed his eyes and just enjoyed the ride... _

_"Oh, Red..." _

"Red? Oh, my...did I come in at a bad time?" asked a quiet voice--a quiet voice that shouldn't be in the room where he and Red were busy making love. The voice chuckled softly and Wolf quickly jerked upright on the bed he slept on, flushed and distinctly bothered. He took a few moments to get his bearings, stare incredulously at Raddy the Brown, then swear colorfully before letting his body fall back into bed. "I take it that you had a nice dream?"

"Shut up," Wolf grumbled.

"Breakfast is ready when you are, my friend. We'll all be in the kitchen." Wolf heard rather than saw Raddy leave the room, and lay on his back with his eyes squeezed shut for several minutes after, trying to calm himself after that very vivid dream. When he felt he had returned to a reasonable facsimile of normalcy, he rolled over onto his side and reached for his trousers.

Breakfast was conducted quickly and without fuss. Wolf helped with the washing up again, and soon the four of them were shrugging into jackets (or in Raddy's case, winding a muffler around his neck) and stepping out into the icy morning. A small hand was almost immediately placed within Wolf's, and the silver-haired man looked down into Gretel's shining brown eyes. He smiled and curled his fingers around hers.

"This way," Raddy said, and lead the way from his cozy cabin and into the forest.

The walk took some time; though the sun had been up for perhaps an hour when the small group had started their journey, it was high overhead by the time Raddy lead Wolf and the children into a large clearing which contained a medium-sized stone cottage constructed of pale yellow brick. A white picket fence surrounded the building, with roses planted thickly along the entire border. The flowers were in hibernation now, but Wolf could tell they must be absolutely glorious in the summer.

From within the cottage itself could be heard...sounds. Wolf glanced at Raddy in alarm. The brown fairy caught his expression and explained.

"Clementine runs a day-care. She used to look after me when I was small...it's...why I know her son."

Wolf remembered then that he'd wanted to ask Raddy about that exact topic, but before he could even open his mouth to speak he was interrupted by a cheerful feminine voice from the direction of the cottage.

"Yes? Who's there?" A moment later, a lemon-yellow adult Fae emerged onto the front porch. She was very pretty, Wolf noted, and dressed in a simple yellow sun-dress which left her arms and legs below the knees bare. "Raddy!" she exclaimed as she saw who her visitors were, and sped from the doorway to the white picket gate in a flash, her yellow wings beating furiously. She engulfed Raddy in a motherly hug, which he returned. Wolf thought he seemed slightly embarrassed.

"Mama Clementine!"

"Gretel! You're here, too! And Hansel! Oh, you look just like your dear mother!" Clementine said, letting go of Raddy to hug his godchildren two at a time. She then gave them both light kisses on their foreheads before standing up again, her bright sunshine eyes landing themselves right on Wolf. "Oh, hello. Who is this?" she asked, the question directed at the masked Fae standing close to her.

"Hi, ma'am," Wolf greeted politely, not sure whether or not he should turn on his charm or hide behind a tree. Not that the female fairy standing before him looked very threatening—she was very slim and pretty, after all--but the fact that she was an adult who had a fully grown child of her own who was known for some amount of lechery, well...It just didn't seem appropriate to act even a little flirtatious with her.

"This is Wolf...er..."

"Loosestrife," the silver-haired man supplied with a small, embarrassed smile.

Clementine gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows up to her hairline. She stared at Wolf in shock as Raddy's ears stiffened a little.

"Er, right. Wolf Loosestrife. He's a friend of mine, and he wants to inquire about...erm...your _son_," Raddy explained quickly, shuddering softly round the end of his sentence. The fairy's long ears twitched in agitation as he probably remembered something unpleasant--Wolf couldn't quite tell, as he couldn't see the fairy's face. He wondered, not for the first time, what might lay beneath the mask. Morgan's older brother, he had heard, had been born with a deformation on his face, which he'd usually just covered up with his hair, though sometimes he'd worn a mask when he just couldn't be bothered to cover it up 'artistically' with his side swept bangs. Could it be that Raddy the Brown had something wrong with his face?

The yellow fairy seemed to have snapped herself out of her shock at the mention of her son. Her expression clouded up a bit, then softened into what Wolf read as maternal disappointment, most likely filled with thoughts of 'Where did I go wrong?' If it was any consolation to her, he was sorry he knew the fruity Fae himself.

She waved them all to come inside. "Well, come in...I'm sure you're going to tell me everything that my errant son has done this time."

The inside of Clementine's house was as tidy as she could make it, considering there were...Wolf counted, not certain whether or not he really actually _did_ want to turn around and go back into the forest..._five_ young Fae scurrying around, getting underfoot. At least their presence explained the odd noises he'd heard earlier, noises which, if he'd thought about it then, would have clued him in to the presence of a large number of small children.

"Come have a seat at the table here," Clementine said, leading Wolf and Raddy to the kitchen. Hansel and Gretel were immediately commandeered by the Fae children, and the two went off happily enough to play. "Can I get you lads anything to drink? Tea? Water?"

Even though they both said no thank you, they were fine, she set two glasses of cool water in font of them anyway before she joined them at the table.

"Now my dears," she said sternly, looking back and forth between Wolf and Raddy. Her expression made Wolf feel like he was ten years old again. "Do tell me about my son. Spare no dirty details. Trust me, I've heard them all."

Wolf glanced at Raddy, who seemed to shrug. "We have a friend, a young man named Red," he began. Clementine listened quietly as Raddy explained the situation, though her lemon-yellow eyes narrowed as he spoke. Wolf listened intently as well, but was distracted about half-way through Raddy's narrative by a tug at his leg. He looked down into the biggest, greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen. When the owner of the eyes saw that Wolf had noticed him, he stretched out his little arms in the universal command understood by all adults as "Pick me up!"

Clementine noticed Wolf's distraction, and the cause. "It's alright," she said to Wolf. "He likes to cuddle." And so Wolf put his hands beneath the small child's arms and lifted him into his lap. Just as Clementine had said, the little Fae immediately wrapped his arms around Wolf's neck and cuddled. Wolf returned the hug, absently noting that the fairy child's wings hadn't grown in yet.

Raddy returned to explaining the situation to Clementine, but now Wolf was somewhat distracted by the small, adorable creature in his lap. He had pulled away and was now staring at Wolf's face. He seemed fascinated with Wolf's eyes or hair, the man wasn't quite sure which. He figured it out a moment later when one small delicate hand reached up and wrapped around a hank of loose hair next to his face. Wolf winced slightly and leaned down towards the child when he began tugging, and his eyes widened when he saw the little hand, still holding a handful of his hair, close the gap to a happily smiling mouth. Then his hair was in, and the little green Fae was chewing on it cheerfully. Wolf was at a complete loss. He didn't want to just yank his hair away...well, he _did_, but he didn't know how the child would react...

"Leif!" Clementine exclaimed, saving Wolf from having to make any decision on his own. She scooped the small child out of Wolf's lap and set him on the floor, swatting his small behind gently but firmly with a hand. "Go play with your sister," she ordered, pointing across the room at another small green Fae, this one female and with her wings grown in. Little Leif looked about to protest, but halted with a Look from Clementine. He toddled over to his sister, glancing sadly back over his shoulder at Wolf.

"I'm really sorry about that," Clementine apologized. "I didn't realize he'd try to do that..."

"It's alright," Wolf found himself saying. He gingerly touched the hank of hair that was now slightly slimy with baby spit. "It'll dry..."

Once they were sure that there would be no other distractions (Raddy convinced Hansel and Gretel to keep the little fairy toddlers busy), the explanation behind their visit was quickly concluded--once both men stopped trying to tell the tale at the same time. On the one hand, Raddy was Red's friend, so knew a good amount of what was going on; on the other Wolf was...er... a 'long time acquaintance' who had actually _been_ there at the time the game had been instated into play.

Clementine looked grim, but unsurprised. "And so...you need to learn his name in order to save Red?" she asked carefully, eyes narrowed. She heaved a sigh, cradling her head with a hand. She shook her head in dismay, muttering a few things under her breath. "And, right now, you've only two nights left, am I correct?"

"Yes," Wolf said, "so, if you could tell me your son's name I'd appreciated the gesture."

The yellow fairy considered for a few moments, though there shouldn't be much to consider as all Wolf needed was a name and the blasted orange fairy would just go off into the sunset or sunrise or whatever else he'd do once he was beaten at his own game. He wouldn't even be turned in to the authorities, all things put into perspective. The silver-haired man, however, noticed that her gaze was not set on him as she pondered over this. As a matter of fact, he found that when he followed her stare, it led directly to Raddy, who was shifting uneasily in his seat.

"You know, Raddy...you didn't have to bring Wolf here in order to tell him his name," she said quietly, tentatively. Sighing again, she reached out and caressed the brown fairy's hair in a motherly gesture. "I know...that it must be hard for you, but it's been years, and no one cares that you're different, Raddy. Times have changed, and so do people."

Wolf went quiet and averted his gaze, sensing the topic had turned to something sensitive that Raddy would prefer he not see. He pretended deep interest in the antics of Gretel and the little yellow and red female Fae children she was playing with. From what he could tell, Gretel and the red Fae were delicate damsels in distress, and the little yellow one was swashbuckling her way through the quiet games of the two male Fae and Hansel in order to save them both from "The icky boys."

"Wolf?" Clementine asked, placing a hand on his arm to catch his attention. He started slightly.

"I'm sorry...you were saying?"

"I was saying, the name you want is 'Rumplestiltskin'." Clementine sat back with a smile. Wolf blinked. "Yes, I know it's a rather odd name...it's an old family name on his father's side. We had agreed when I got pregnant, if it was a boy he would pick the name, and if it was a girl, I would pick." Here she sighed. "I so would have liked to have had a little girl...I would have called her Saffron."

Wolf smiled and nodded agreeably, wondering how he could politely extract himself from Clementine's cozy home now that he had what he had come for and be on his way. A very short while later, he realized that there was no way at all to leave politely. If he made a break for it, it would leave a bad impression, and after Clementine had been so helpful, that was the last thing he wanted to do. So he sat at the kitchen table for another hour chatting with Clementine and Raddy, and after that was drawn into playing with the children. All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon, even though both of the green Fae siblings were utterly fascinated with his hair and each tried to eat it several times, and even though he still had worry for Red hanging in the back of his mind...he figured he'd have plenty of time to find the baker tonight after he left.

The sun was setting by the time he, Raddy, Hansel, and Gretel bid farewell to the pleasant mother duck (as Wolf couldn't help thinking of her). Wolf walked all the way back to Raddy's cabin with him and the children, as going past there would eventually lead him out of the forest. Once they reached Raddy's home, the brown fairy invited Wolf in for dinner, but he politely declined. He really wanted to get on his way, but he couldn't resist asking the question that had been sitting in the back of his mind since the night before.

"If you don't mind my asking..." Wolf began, trying to adopt a casual, unthreatening posture.

"Yes?" Raddy replied.

"Why can't you just say 'Rumplestiltskin?" he asked, gazing intently at the wooden mask that covered the muddy fairy's face. He watched as those long ears twitch anxiously, then stiffen. Hands clenched and unclenched; face downcast. Through the wood Wolf could hear strained and heavy muffled breathing as the other male's shoulders rose and fell.

"It's...none of your concern," was the muddy fairy's reply after a while.

Wolf did not drop the matter; he asked another question. "Does it have to do with why you wear a mask?" He took a step closer to the brown-haired man and frowned when the other backed away from him. "What do you possibly have to hide?" The answer he received was the same, but much more sharper--with an edge and tone that almost seemed familiar. Now that Wolf thought about it, Raddy's voice did sound awfully (dreadfully, even) similar to another fairy's... Somehow it just clicked into place.

According to science journals, fairies have a rather unique way of procreation; their genetics are very odd. Not only are their blood types classified as Y, B, R (which stands for 'yellow', 'blue' and 'red' respectively) and have the exact same consistency and coloring as water-based paints, but whatever children they have end up being a mix of a pair's particular colorings. And, as far as Wolf knew, brown was not a very favored fairy color--avoided as much as the royals avoided choosing mates not of black or white--and was often brought about through the combinations of all three blood types at once. And since he had enough common sense, he knew that red and blue made purple and adding anything yellow in after that would make a rather muddy color of brown...the same shade that the fairy before him.

Although he now had a very good guess as to the identity of Raddy the Brown's father, he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut about it. But if the fact that Wicked was Raddy's father had anything to do with why the brown fairy wore a mask as well...

"It is none of your concern."

"The hell it isn't," Wolf snapped without meaning to. He shrank back a little a when he realized what he'd just said. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, wondering what he could say next. "You know...if you can't even bring yourself to say a guy's name...no matter how many years pass or how you manage to keep on going...you'll never live it down."

"Why do you even care?" Raddy snapped, his voice hard. Wolf suppressed a shudder; that voice was _very_ familiar indeed.

"Because I do. Because you're Red's friend and you're a decent guy, and it pisses me off when slimy bastards like Rumply-what's-is-face get the better of decent guys."

Raddy went quiet then, staring at Wolf from behind his mask. Wolf wished he could tell whether the Fae was still upset, or if he was really angry now, or if he had been mollified by Wolf's words. Almost without thinking, Wolf leaned close and plucked the mask clean off Raddy's face, and stepped back several paces, studying the Fae's face as he did so.

There was dead silence in the clearing for several moments, before Wolf spoke again.

"You don't need this," he said, holding up the mask.

"All the same, I'd like it back." The brown Fae's voice was tight with anger.

Wolf shrugged, and held out the mask. Raddy snatched it back up and replaced it. Wolf could feel his eyes glaring from beneath the wooden cover.

"Thank you very much for your help," Wolf said, as though he wasn't even now imagining violent scenarios of his own premature demise at the hands of an irate Fae. "I'm sorry to be such an arse after all you've done for me, but you're such a nice guy I hate thinking...well..." he trailed off and shrugged. Raddy continued to regard him silently. "I'd better get going," Wolf said, feeling awkward and slightly ashamed. "Maybe I'll see you later..." he trailed off and began backing away, before he realized how stupid he must look and forced himself to turn around. He imagined he could feel the brown Fae's eyes staring at his back. He shrugged his shoulders deeper into his leather jacket to ward off the chill, and tried to pretend he was unconcerned.

----------

By the time he picked up Red's faint trail again, it was dawn. The baker had crossed back and forth between the Fae Forest and the count's manor so often in the past two days that determining which direction he had gone in last was nigh on impossible, even for Wolf. He spent all of the third day and most of the night following faint traces of Red's scent, and had ended up back at the count's mansion well after dark, hoping against hope that Red would be there. After speaking briefly with Hannah, who told him all she knew was that Red had gone north, he took off once more, following Red's path. At least he knew he was going in the right direction, and that Red was somewhere in the Fae Forest, but as the moon rose and set and he still couldn't find the dark-haired man, he was beginning to panic a bit. What if he got there, but it was too late? What if he—Overpower forbid—walked up on Red and the bloody Fae as they were right in the middle of...?

Wolf quickly redirected his thoughts. He wasn't sure how he would react to stumbling across _that_ particular scenario, but chances were, it would be bloody, and he'd rather not think about it at all.

He barely noticed when he stepped on a log that called obscenities at his retreating back. He _did_ notice when a wolfish, grey dog, gangly and only half-grown, nipped him on the ankle, then ran away a few paces. Wolf cursed and glared at the animal, but then paused as he stared into the puppy's ice-blue eyes. He blinked once, hard, as though trying to clear his head, then moved toward the animal, almost as if in a trance. It began walking at a leisurely pace, leading him through the undergrowth, and Wolf followed quietly.

It lead him in silence for some way, until Wolf took a deep breath and realized he was practically right on top of Red and the Fae; Red's cinnamon-y, delicious scent was mingling with the Fae's abrupt, citrus odor. Momentarily distracted by a surge of irrational anger, Wolf stepped on a twig, causing it to snap.

He saw Red's head jerk up, and heard the orange prat's silky smooth voice:

"Well, my sweet? Did you want to begin early?"

"_Over my dead body!_" Wolf said. He'd meant to shout it, but it came out a hoarse whisper.

He could see the Fae's long ears prick, and he sat up, frowning. "What was that?" he demanded.

Red seemed frozen to his seat, his back to Wolf. "Wolf?" he whispered, glancing around.

Silence settled, and Wolf stared triumphantly at the orange Fae, who had caught sight of him by now, and was glaring back.

"Hello, Red," he said, and couldn't help the smirk that slid across his features.

----------------

The poor baker's face was alight with an expression that was a mixture of happiness, hope, and anxiety. There was an internal battle that was going on between his heart and his mind, with his soul playing the referee--until his heart insulted his soul's mother's questionable ancestry, whereupon it turned into a three-way fight for control of Red's reaction to Wolf's sudden appearance, which inevitably descended into a horrible massacre where Red's liver came out the victor. As such, it decided to spit out some bile, so the dark-haired man acted accordingly.

"Where in the _seven hells_ have you been?!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "I was this close--" He held up his thumb and index finger; they were touching one another. "--to losing my virginity to an orange pouf who smells of tangerines and friggin' _body sparkles_!!"

The last part had been shouted with all of the baker's might; the sound echoed through the forest for miles away. Somewhere high up in the trees, a squirrel chittered in annoyance, and shook its little hibernation-stricken fist in the general direction of the ruckus before falling back asleep in its little home. In response, both the fairy and the man in leather trousers each raised a respective eyebrow.

"What was that about my sparkles?" the orange Fae asked.

"I _missed_ you, too," Wolf said at length, slightly sarcastic. Rolling his eyes at Red's very predictable reaction to his arrival on the scene (and he had tried so hard to make it dramatic, too), he plopped himself down on a large, protruding root, heaving a slightly tired sigh. "Oi...you have no idea what I've been through to get that guy's name. It's been one interesting journey..."

"You have no right!" the orange Fae exclaimed angrily, leaping to his feet and glaring at the silver-haired man. "The agreement was that _Red _would _guess_ my name, not be _told_ it!" Wolf merely smiled in response, the self-satisfied smirk Red had seen when the man had first appeared once again crossing his features.

"Au contraire, my fruity friend. I seem to recall that it wasn't Red who agreed to the game at all, but _myself_. As such, I think that would give me more than fair right to participate. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Fae frowned, his topaz eyes flashing, but he did not deny that Wolf was, in fact, correct.

"And so, I'd like to have some guesses now," Wolf continued, still smirking slightly and leaning forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on the knuckles of his interlaced fingers. "For my first guess...could your name possibly be..._Bitty Rumps?_"

Red stared in utter disbelief, first at Wolf, then at the Fae, who seemed rooted to where he stood, eyes wide, his face drained of all color.

"No?" Wolf continued a moment later when the Fae didn't say anything. "Then what about..._Rumply-Dumply?_"

Red continued to stare. The Fae's expression had altered from angry disbelief to horrified astonishment. Color was rushing back to his cheeks; before Wolf opened his mouth to speak a third time, his face was cherry red.

"That's not it either? Then it must be _Rumplestiltskin,_" Wolf finished, leaning back against the trunk of his tree and crossing his long legs in front of him in a very satisfied manner.

The Fae finally managed to speak. "Who...who told you!?" he demanded. Red edged surreptitiously closer to where Wolf sat. That the angry creature before him was a disgusting nymphomaniac was bad enough, but considering that he was also a Fae, and more than likely capable of horrible violence when he was angry, Red felt much safer the closer he was to Wolf.

"_I_ told him," a new voice spoke up, and a moment later a tall female Fae appeared in front of Rumplestiltskin in a cloud of lemon-colored sparkles. Red stared; this creature must be quite old indeed, as she had the appearance of a mature woman (in that in face and form she looked about eighteen human years old). She was clothed in a simple yellow sun-dress which was completely inappropriate for such cold weather. Her long, wavy hair cascaded in golden sheets to her knees. Yellow butterfly wings were half-folded against her back, so that the black-veined pattern could be discerned. Though Red couldn't see her eyes, he knew they must be a striking amber color. They were probably also flashing angrily, as the first thing the new arrival did after she appeared was reach one slender hand up to firmly pinch one of the orange Fae's long ears.

"M-mother," Rumplestiltskin sputtered, his anger at Wolf completely forgotten. He leaned down towards her in what looked to Red to be a futile attempt to ease the painful pulling on his ear.

"I couldn't believe my _ears _when this nice young man told me what you were up to!" she exclaimed, and Red thought that beneath the outwardly tearful veil, her voice was as hard as steel. "You ought to be _ashamed_ of yourself! _Thoroughly_ ashamed!" Still holding Rumplestiltskin's ear, she turned to face Red and Wolf. Red saw that he had been quite right in guessing the female's expression. It was not the sort of anger he would ever want directed at him. He gulped slightly.

"I'm _dreadfully_ sorry for the trouble my son has caused you," she said to Red, her voice completely changed; both the tearfulness and the steel were gone, replaced by a truly apologetic tone. "Is there any way at all I can make it up to you?"

"Um..." Red was drawing a complete blank.

"If you could...make sure he doesn't bother us anymore, that would be enough for us," Wolf said, climbing to his feet as he spoke.

"Of course; that shouldn't be too difficult at all." The yellow fairy smiled, and in an instant her whole face transformed; she was quite beautiful, as were all Fae. "I apologize once again. If you feel up to it, do come around for tea again sometime, Wolf dear." And with that last, motherly admonishment, she disappeared in a poof of muted yellow sparkles, taking her errant son with her.

An awkward silence descended upon the two men left alone together in the cold pre-dawn forest. Red was in a state of semi-shock; he'd been building up all his mental reserves and resigning himself to his fate for three days, and now, abruptly, all that mental preparation had been proved completely unnecessary, thanks to the man standing before him.

He didn't know whether he wanted to thank Wolf for saving him or strangle him for causing him so much stress.

"So what now?" Wolf asked, interrupting Red's confused thoughts. Red looked at him, and saw that he was watching him curiously, his expression serious.

"Um." For the second time that morning, Red seemed at a loss for words. He finally decided how he was going to respond, but just as he opened his mouth to berate Wolf for being late, a tiny voice in the back of his head spoke up and reminded him of his shameful behavior the _last_ time Wolf had saved him from a perverted Fae. So he shut his mouth, stepped over to Wolf, and hugged him. As when he had done this three days before, Wolf stiffened in surprise; he recovered more quickly this time, however, and wrapped his arms around Red's shoulders, drawing him closer. Red relaxed ever so slightly in Wolf's embrace, taking a deep breath in relief. Wolf smelled strongly of leather, slightly of tobacco, and faintly of sweat. Red was surprised to discover that he quite liked that combination.

As he thought this, though, the realization of what he was doing hit him, and he pulled away abruptly. Wolf let go without a fuss, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and waited for Red to speak.

"I have to go back to the manor," the baker said, trying to cover his embarrassment with irritation. It would have fooled anyone but Wolf, who, unbeknownst to Red, was quite familiar with most of the dark-haired man's little idiosyncrasies. "Victor and Hannah are getting married today, and they want me to be there for some reason..."

Wolf blinked. "Victor?" he asked, slightly confused.

"The count," Red clarified, relieved to be able to move on to a topic of discussion that held no awkwardness for him.

Wolf blinked again. "I see," he said. "It sounds like you've had an interesting three days too."

Red nodded, and began walking south out of the Fae Forest. Wolf followed a few steps behind. He paused for a moment so that Wolf could catch up and walk beside him instead of behind him. As grateful as he was towards the silver-haired man, and even though he now knew that Wolf could actually be quite the gentleman, he'd still rather have the man where he could see him instead of where he'd have a nice view of his rear end (even if said rear end was perfectly covered by his cherry-red cloak).

"You'll have to tell me what you've been up to sometime," he said.

"Un..." Wolf agreed with noncommittal noise.

Whenever that 'sometime' was, though, it didn't look like it was going to be a 'then and there' sometime as a more or less comfortable silence fell between the two. A light snow began to fall down from the sky, coating them both with a fine dusting of white powder as they carefully wound their way around Maple Town in order to avoid the probably still paranoid villagers, who could stick their pitchforks where the sun don't shine for all Red cared anymore. A chill wind blew down from the north, and he shivered a bit. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and wondered if maybe he should invest in a jacket instead.

He was surprised when Wolf draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to his side. He would have protested, but felt too comfortable in the warmth that the other man provided to object. He looked up curiously, and the silver-haired man smirked down at him.

"Don't want you to get sick. Didn't I say it was chilly out?"

Red knew he was referring to the note he had left along with his lost basket the other day. He blushed pink, but said nothing in response. What could he say?

There came yet another pause where neither said anything, and Red was surprised to realize he was actually enjoying the presence of the other, as well as the rare physical contact they were sharing. The dark-haired man could count on one hand exactly how many times he had ever been in the other male's arms, and could even shorten it a few fingers more as to exactly how many times he had been willing to let it happen...

He snaked an arm up and around Wolf's waist, steadfastly keeping his gaze straight ahead so he could not see the older man's reaction. He didn't want to see a smug smirk, nor a look of utter shock at his gesture. As he heard nothing and felt nothing change in the other's stance as they walked together, he supposed that what he had done was more or less accepted, so he said nothing as well. Truth be told, this was rather nice. Out in the cold, his breath coming out in steam, with snow drifting down lazily in little puffs and someone holding him close...it was...something Red had only ever dreamed of after that incident years ago.

He wondered if he should have just accepted Wolf when he was fifteen. Would things have turned out differently? No, probably not. Wolf or no Wolf, Red was sure that he would have done the same things over again--he still would have poisoned the one and only princess of Saison, he still would have cursed the princess of Tempus into a one hundred year slumber...he would have driven a rift between himself and the rest of the world just to keep himself safe from attachment...safe from hurting others and himself...

But what if...what if Wolf had been there through all that, beside him? He wasn't quite sure he dared to speculate.

"So...what does this make us now?" Wolf asked after several minutes in which neither of them spoke, the only sound the crunch of their feet walking in step along the road.

Red blinked. "Huh?"

The older man chuckled. "I mean...you're not running away...I don't have a slap print on my face...we're not in the way of any imminent doom...What does that make us now? Good acquaintances? Friends with benefits? Lovers?"

To that, Red could only ever give one answer.

"Hell no."

"Bugger that," Wolf said, though he didn't sound too upset. In fact, he sounded pretty amused by Red's answer. Red reasoned that it was probably because of many such short conversations which had occurred over the years, the silver-haired man wasn't fazed by his abruptness anymore. Ten years of conditioning could do wonders for a man's resistance to rejection. "So, Red...in all seriousness...what are you going to do now? You've finished your chores, haven't you?"

"Well...yes," Red said, realizing that this was true. He had "saved" Hannah from an early death, so his obligation to his godmother was finished. "I guess...well, there's the wedding today, and then Raddy told me to drop by one more time before I go home, so..." he trailed off. Then he blinked as he realized the full import of what Wolf had just said. "Who told you about my chores?" he asked, surprised.

Wolf shrugged. "No one," he said. "I sort of figured it out on my own a while ago."

Red was quiet for a few more moments, thinking about this. That Wolf knew about his "chores" implied that he also knew the source, and if that was the case...it meant that Wolf was associating with him, was walking and talking to him, was holding him close against the cold, despite his knowledge of Red's relationship with Death. He felt very nervous all of a sudden, wondering what this could mean.

"So you know about...my godmother?" he asked, not quite sure even as he spoke what he meant by the question.

"She seems like a nice enough person," Wolf commented agreeably. "Terrible job she's got, but then, if she didn't do it, who would?"

Red stopped walking abruptly, which caused Wolf to stumble slightly. He recovered quickly, though, and looked down at Red, concerned. Red was doing some furious thinking, and didn't notice the expression on the other man's face. Wolf knew who his godmother was, and didn't seem to care! He knew the source of the awful things Red had to do, and he still followed him into danger and rescued him from certain doom! What did that _mean_?

"It's too bad we can't pick our relatives, huh?" Wolf said, somewhat uncomfortable at the look of fierce concentration on Red's face. "If you ever have the chance to meet my father, you'll see where I'm coming from."

Red seemed to hear what he said, because he nodded, and began walking again just as abruptly as he had stopped, practically dragging Wolf with him as his arm was still hooked around Wolf's waist.

"Tell me what you've been up to," Red said, changing the subject. He glanced up at Wolf through his bangs, and flushed slightly at the bemused expression on the man's face. "I'd really like to know," he added softly, looking back down.

Wolf smiled, and began to tell the tale of his misadventure through the Fae Forest as the great mansion of Count Victor von Verkoltenstein came into view.


	9. A Wedding To Remember

**CHAPTER 9**  
A Wedding To Remember

"Quit squirming!"

"I would if you'd just stop--ah! Ah! _Wolf_!"

"Haven't you ever done this before?" Wolf asked, sounding rather impatient with the man he was wrestling on the bed with. He smirked when Red squeaked beneath him, his face flushed bright red, indignant.

"No, I haven't!" the baker snapped, struggling against Wolf with all of his might. He accidentally kicked the older man in his flailing, earning himself a very dirty look. Red had the decency to look sheepish.

Wolf let out a huff and a puff. "That's it. I'm through being nice," he growled, flipping a very startled Red onto his stomach.

"No!" 

"Yes! Now hold still!"

The dark-haired man could only screw up his face and brace himself. He held his breath, waiting for what seemed forever as Wolf finally got to work behind him. He felt the older man tug him closer, pulling him by the hips, and he couldn't help but start to flail about anew.

"Keep doing that and I'll tie you up," Wolf warned. A moment later, he finally got Red's cummerbund on correctly. Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, he got off the bed they had been pretty much pressed up against for the last twenty minutes and took a step back to admire the younger man. He looked very handsome, not at all like his usual adorable self, dressed in the black tuxedo and matching, one-size-too-small wine-red sash that he was wearing for Hannah's wedding. It was one of Victor's older ones from his youth, something he'd had in his closet that he'd never bothered with throwing out. 

"Nice…very nice," the silver-haired man complimented, looking Red up and down. The baker gave an irritated blush at this, but said nothing in return. He sniffled as he put a hand to his stomach, looking at it worriedly, wondering if it might burst if he tried to sit or bend down. "You should dress like this more often."

"No, thank you," Red muttered. He was having just a little trouble breathing. The sash wasn't too tight, per se, but he had never liked the feeling of something odd squishing his middle all that much. He went over to a large mirror to assess himself, going over every detail to make sure that everything was just right. This was his first wedding, after all. For this occasion he had even smoothed all of his hair back and tied it into a more masculine ponytail (which showed off his not-very-prominent widow's peak), foregoing his usual braid.

As for Wolf, he'd cleaned up very well indeed, and Red couldn't help but appreciate (and be somewhat jealous of) the suit which the older man wore like a comfortable second skin. Although it had been tailored for Robert Grimm, manservant extraordinaire (he'd have to be, to deal with Victor on a daily basis), it fit Wolf's lean frame like a glove. 

"See something you like?" the man in question asked, smiling playfully. Scowling, Red gave a soft huff and snubbed him as he went for the bedroom door, where he paused.

"Shut up or I'll feed you to the green baby fairies."

"Fair enough, Red."

The baker was still somewhat tired, despite the power-nap he'd had when he'd arrived back at the mansion with Wolf by his side. He had listened to the older man intently as he'd regaled him with his adventures through the Fae Forest , becoming surprised, enraged, and somewhat enamored along the way with each passing word from Wolf's lips. It had still been somewhat awkward, as Red felt he was only just getting to know the man who constantly stalked (let's face it, Wolf knew too much about him for his own good to be considered anything but a stalker) him for the very first time. For a little while, there had been no pie incident, there had been no stolen kiss at Tempus, and no dance at an opulent masquerade.

It had just been him and a handsome acquaintance of old, walking together in the snow, exchanging life stories as if they had known each other forever...

It had been nice, and Red had been very tempted to let the silver-haired man follow him into the guest bedroom where he had stayed the day previous, but propriety kept him from making such a suggestion. When asked that he make for another room the man had politely obliged him before he'd made his farewell for the next couple of hours for his own rest. 

Wolf had hesitated in touching him when they'd parted, and it had bewildered Red somewhat when he moved in to kiss him good night (or good morning). A hand had been raised and was mere centimeters from the baker's freckled cheek, and he hadn't flinched away or shown any signs of disgust for once. Possibly it was because he was so tired that he couldn't be bothered with moving at all, or he had just grown used to the idea of Wolf making contact with him—Red was too muddle-brained to remember. But the hand had hovered for a moment or two before he'd received a brief caress from Wolf's knuckles and a chaste kiss planted on the top of his head. Wolf had smiled softly afterwards, and then had left with Robert to find a different room for him to rest in.

It would have been lovely to report that the baker had stood there, staring, lovesick, at the leather clad man's back(side) as he gracefully walked away from him. It would have been equally as nice to know that Red had to use the doorframe for support as he slumped to the ground, his face heated up, his legs turned to jelly. It would even have been worth it to find out that the freckled man had fallen into a dead faint from pure pleasure coursing through his body.

However, fact and fiction (or fictional fact and factual fiction) have a habit of standing on different ends of a very large spectrum called reality.

Red had calmly gone into his room, locked the door, and then flopped onto his bed.

He'd also ended up dreaming increasingly graphic and naughty wet dreams about Wolf, but you don't really need to know that.

"So, ready to go?" Wolf asked, snapping his favorite person in the world from his private thoughts. As Red had suddenly found himself remembering a particularly devious moment that had been spawned by the self-same dream involving Wolf, chocolate chip cookie dough, and handcuffs, the baker couldn't help the shameful rising heat coming to his freckled face as he turned to look at Wolf. The man raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Something the matter?"

"Nothing's the batter—matter! Matter, I say!" Red shouted for no real reason, gesticulating nervously as he tried to unsuccessfully cover his naughty mental tracks. Wolf just chuckled in amusement, shaking his head. Then he took him by the arm and began leading him out of the bedroom and into the mansion proper. 

"Come on you, Hannah's waiting for us." 

-----------------------------

The wedding had gone splendidly.

And in broad daylight.

Alright, well, _almost_ broad daylight, as Victor's sensitive eyes couldn't take the bright morning or afternoon light, so everyone had to settle for very early evening, when the sun was just beginning to set into the west. They held it in the town chapel so that everyone could see that no, their count wasn't a vampire and yes, neither was the young chap who'd been accused of it earlier. In fact, he actually looked quite dashing in his tux, if the way some of the ladies in the wedding party ogled him from the pews while he stood next to the groom was anything to tell by.

Robert had been the best man, Red played witness, and Wolf had the honor of leading Hannah (who looked resplendent and beautiful in a soft virgin-white wedding gown) down the aisle. The baker was very surprised to find that Hansel had appeared as the ring bearer and Gretel as the flower girl during the ceremony; both were very happy to see that their 'Uncle Red' was quite alright and thanked 'Uncle Wolf' profusely for saving him before the reception by clinging onto his long legs.

The town hall had cleared up for the reception the moment news of the count's wedding had been announced. Someone had managed to procure a great number of gold, orange, and deep red flowers for the wedding. Red suspected Fae involvement, as it was now far too close to winter for any of the flowers decorating the reception hall to be blooming otherwise. The hall itself was rectangular. Round tables covered in white cloths were set up at the end near the entrance. The far side of the hall was clear of obstruction, though a long table had been set up on the very far side, where the magnificent seven-tiered wedding cake had been put on display for all to see. Red could hear many appreciative murmurs being made in regard to the cake, and felt an understandable welling of pride.

Once the reception had begun, the baker made his way over to Robert, thinking to inquire as to how the two siblings had been enlisted to working at the ceremony, when he was stopped short by a pregnant woman running into the reception hall and practically pouncing onto Robert, smothering his faces with kisses.

"Robert, darling!" she said joyfully. Her wavy brown hair was slightly dishevel; loose strands were sticking out of the bun she wore on the back of her head. "Oh, how I missed you!"

"Natasha! When did you get back?"

The woman's answer was drowned by cries of "Momma!" "Momma's home!" It wasn't long after before Hansel and Gretel were each hugging as much of her as they could reach.

"Hello, my darlings!" Natasha exclaimed, bending down somewhat awkwardly around her gravid belly to gather the pair into her arms. "Were you on your best behavior for your father while I was away?"

"Yes, for Papa and Uncle Raddy too," Hansel said solemnly.

"Uncle Raddy?" Natasha seemed surprised. Robert quickly explained. 

"When our lord took it into his head to imprison his future lady-wife, I asked Radamanthus if he'd be kind enough to look after the children while I looked after our lord."

"Oh...I see," Natasha smiled and straightened, placing a hand in the small of her back as she did so. Robert hovered protectively, placing a hand at her elbow to support her. "Did you have fun with Uncle Raddy, children?"

"Yes, loads!" Hansel responded.

"And with Uncle Red and Uncle Wolf too!" Gretel added happily.

"Oh my," Natasha said, looking to Robert for an explanation.

"This is Red," Robert said, gesturing to the baker, who was still standing near, watching the proceedings with interest. "He's a friend of Hannah's, and was trying to help her when he...you know what? This is rather complex. I'll tell you exactly what our lord has been up to later. But anyway, Natasha, Red. Red, this is my wife, Natasha." 

Natasha held out her hand, and Red took it and brought it to his lips, brushing a light kiss on her knuckles. "It's nice to meet you," she said, smiling warmly at him. He smiled back. 

"The pleasure's all mine," he said. "Your children are wonderful," he added, when he couldn't think of anything else to say. This seemed the right thing to say though, because Natasha beamed, practically glowing with maternal pride. 

"Thank you," she said. She seemed about to say something else, perhaps to ask him a question, when she was distracted by Gretel.

"Uncle Wolf!" the little girl exclaimed, and ran off between the tables and mingling crowd of celebrators to attach herself to one of Wolf's long legs. There looked to be a moment of impending disaster, as the man held a flute of champagne in each hand and was unbalanced by the sudden weight on one of his legs, but he recovered quickly and transferred both glasses to his left hand, and used his right to gently guide Gretel back over to her parents. She was smiling happily.

"And this is Red's friend Wolf," Robert said, gently pulling Gretel away from the man as he introduced his wife. "Wolf, this is my wife Natasha."

Wolf's smile was so charming and unexpected, Red felt his knees go weak at the sight. He bowed deeply to Natasha. "It's a pleasure to meet you, madam," he said, deftly handing one of the champagne glasses to Red as he spoke. He took her hand and kissed it.

The brown-haired woman laughed in delight before curtseying to him lightly. "A pleasure, I'm sure," she said with a bright smile. Around this time, Red managed to snap out of his gushy mental state as a question belated came zooming into his mind. His face showed a slightly confused expression as his mind replayed rather strange images of Victor coming on to Robert on a very consistent basis during the time he had stayed with them.

"Wait…wait, wait, wait a minute. You're…you're _married_, Robert? With _children_?" the baker asked, incredulously, pointing shakily at Natasha, then their children. "When? Why? How?!"

The married couple stared at the baker in surprise. Then the two of them shared a look: Natasha silently demanding, with a delicate brow raised, Robert looking sheepish and embarrassed. The woman then raised a hand and whacked him playfully upside the head.

"Victor's still playing his vampire games, huh?" she asked, shaking her head in dismayed amusement. Her husband gave his wife a helpless shrug, which earned him another smack on his head. "I told you, the next time you two decided to play 'vampire master' and 'human servant', I wanted to watch!"

"But…but…Natasha dear!" was Robert's lame defense. Natasha sighed and turned to look at Wolf, a sly smile on her pretty face.

"So, Wolf...are you attached?" she inquired, linking arms with the silver-haired man. Robert's jaw dropped and Red went bug-eyed as he watched the woman lead his...'friend'...off towards the refreshments.

"That was cruel," Robert muttered, watching as his wife flirted happily with Wolf. He didn't seem too upset, though, and his children quickly distracted him with demands for attention.

Red, who had no such distraction, simply stared at Wolf. He was laughing at something Natasha had said, his amber eyes practically dancing in merriment. Then he said something in return, this time causing his companion to laugh. He couldn't stop himself from thinking how amazingly handsome Wolf had turned out to be; well, he'd always known that the man was good-looking. He'd certainly thought so the very first time he'd set eyes on him on that fateful day in the Sleeping Forest ten years ago. He supposed he'd forgotten somewhat because he'd spent so much energy being irritated with the man during every encounter afterwards. But he had begun to change his mind...or at least, his feelings were changing. Red would have had to be a much colder individual than he pretended he was to not feel grateful towards the man for saving him from the Wicked Fairy _and_ his curse...and he couldn't possibly forget the evening he had spent at the masque in Tempus a little later, being charmed and flirted with by that same man, and feeling intense regret when the evening had drawn to a close with a kiss...

Something had changed in Red that night, after he'd gotten over his anger over being tricked. He'd come to realize that there was more to Wolf than there appeared, more than just the horny stalker Red had always assumed he was. He also realized, as he watched Wolf flirt carelessly with Natasha, that he was beginning to like what he saw in the other man.

Natasha laughed again at something Wolf said, and leaned closer to him, bringing their faces within inches of each other as she talked. Red felt a sudden stab of jealousy in his gut as he watched them, two acquaintances who were already laughing intimately. He blinked and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He glanced at the champagne in his hand, which he had been sipping absently as he'd thought, but he knew, even with his light tolerance for alcohol, that the bubbly concoction had nothing to do with it. He tried to reason with himself; Natasha was married, and clearly in love with her husband...not to mention heavily pregnant. She was certainly no competition...

Competition!? Maybe he _had_ had too much to drink! What in the world was making him think this way!?

He was very grateful to be distracted by a hand on his arm. He turned to look into Hannah's curious face. "Is...something the matter?" she asked, looking into Red's eyes. He found himself shaking his head.

"No...Just thinking," he said.

"Alright," she replied, though he thought she sounded a bit disbelieving. "I wanted...to talk to you...for a moment," she continued, tugging him gently so that he began to follow her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, slightly confused.

Hannah smiled at him; her face glowed with happiness. "Yes," she said. "For me, everything is...perfect." She was silent as she finished guiding him to a quiet corner of the reception hall, her smile receding somewhat. "But for you...I get the feeling...not so much."

"What do you mean?" Red asked, stiffening slightly. He'd never been good at confiding in others, and he could sense that that was exactly what Hannah wanted him to do. 

"Red...How do you feel about Wolf?" she asked, catching Red off-guard.

"I think...he's..." _A horny pervert that only wants to get into my pants_. But he couldn't say it. He wasn't sure if it was entirely true anymore. Though he'd teased and insinuated throughout their long acquaintance, Wolf hadn't actually ever done anything to him, had only rarely touched him, always playfully, and had always backed off when told to do so.

"I see..." Hannah said. She sighed a little and stared out at the crowd. Red followed her gaze and caught sight of Wolf once more. He was still chatting amiably with Natasha, but Red could see his amber eyes glancing about, as if part of his attention was elsewhere. He stopped looking when he found Red, and their eyes met. Red gulped loudly when Wolf smiled at him. It wasn't his usual smirk, or what Red had come to think of as a smirk. It was...softer, for lack of a better term, more intimate. And it was directed solely at him.

"Do you know...how Wolf feels...about you?" Hannah asked, startling him. Red jerked and broke eye-contact with Wolf to look at her.

"What?" he croaked. His voice didn't seem to want to work properly. He cleared his throat hastily. "No," he said. "Actually...I don't."

His answer caused Hannah to snort softly in derision. "Men!" she exclaimed under her breath, though derision was tempered with a healthy dose of affection. "They'll lock you in a dungeon...before they can...bring themselves to say...'I love you.'"

"What?" Red heard himself asking again, though he'd heard her perfectly fine. He was beginning to feel like Hannah had expected him to know something that he didn't.

"Wolf...loves you...very much, I think," Hannah said, her dark eyes serious. Red stared at her for a full minute, then laughed, though it wasn't very convincing.

"No he doesn't," he said, flapping his hand as if to disperse Hannah's statement into nothingness, still chuckling nervously. 

Hannah gave him a Look. He dropped his hand to his side, stopped laughing, and stared guiltily at her.

"He told me...months ago...'I'm in love with someone.'" Red wanted to smile at Hannah's imitation of Wolf's deep voice, but could not force the muscles in his face to move. He could only stare at her as she talked, and hope that the butterflies in his stomach would go away soon. "It's obvious...to me...watching him watch you...who he meant," Hannah continued, looking hard at him. He slowly shook his head.

"I don't believe it," he said, though he didn't sound very convincing, even to himself. Hannah gave him another look.

"Believe me or not...it's up to you. But I thought...you should know."

"Thought he should know what?" a new voice asked. Red jumped guiltily and stared up at a pair of curious amber eyes. Wolf had snuck up on them both.

"How grateful I am...for his friendship," Hannah answered smoothly, smiling at Wolf. He grinned back.

"Well, I'm sure that made him happy to hear," he said, glancing at Red briefly, the smile still lingering on his lips. "But now, I think it's my traditional duty as your...surrogate father, I suppose, to drag you out onto the dance floor for a waltz. If you would oblige me?" he asked, proffering his elbow. Hannah smiled and placed a hand on his arm, and he led her away from Red, who stared after them both. The butterflies in his stomach had transformed into small birds, and he decided he needed to sit down.

He found a seat at an empty table near the back of the crowd, through which he could still see the dance floor. He watched Wolf and Hannah's solitary waltz, staring at the silver-haired man as he guided the new bride expertly around the floor. Red could hear appreciative murmurs from many unattached women around him, admiring the handsome, graceful man who was dancing with their new countess, wondering if he was single, and planning on claiming a dance once the count claimed his bride.

Red couldn't help the surge of jealousy as he heard these remarks, then immediately scolded himself for being the worst sort of stupid. Why should he be jealous? It wasn't as if Wolf meant anything to him, after all. The waltz ended and the count stepped onto the dance-floor. Red had to admit, the man looked very dashing indeed; the perfect fairy tale prince for Hannah, who smiled happily as Wolf handed her off to Victor. When the silver-haired man was free of his duty, he glanced over the crowd until he spotted Red. He smiled and tried to make his way to where the baker was sitting, but was blocked by a gaggle of breathless females, all asking to claim a dance. He seemed to hesitate, but eventually offered his arm to a pretty redhead. He glanced once more at Red, and their gazes met. Wolf rolled his eyes and smiled, his expression clearly saying, "What can you do?" and returned to the dance-floor with his new partner.

Red found himself staring helplessly as Wolf danced round after round, switching off partners every time the musicians paused between numbers. Wolf attended to each of his partners politely, though his eyes wandered often enough to a certain table where a certain black-haired man sat and kept company with two small children, who had sought him out once their parents had begun dancing. Red felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body each time their eyes met, and his stomach continued to play host to a small flock of birds.

Robert and Natasha came up to him after a few dances had gone, and dragged him to a table closer to the dancing. Natasha kept him and the children company as Robert went off to acquire refreshments.

However, the dark-haired man found that he could only sit there for so long and decided that he should get up and go before his exhaustion-influenced mind confused whatever he was feeling for the man still dancing out of his reach with anything but his usual emotions related to Wolf, or of respect for the man. As he got up, however, he was unable to simply flee the scene. Before he could take the first step a pretty girl came up to him, hands clasped demurely in front of her, her gaze set firmly to the ground as her cheeks were stained a soft pink.

As oblivious to his own feelings as Red could be, even he knew what this young damsel wanted of him.

"Um, excuse me, sir, er, if I could just...please ask you..."

The baker smiled down at her, wondering whether or not to indulge her in one small dance. A part of him was appalled that he would even consider such a thing, while another was vaguely sadistic in its thoughts about making Wolf jealous by dancing with someone else.

Red blinked, then shook his head to clear that unwanted thought. Unfortunately, the girl read his motion as a negative, and tears began to fill her eyes. As the man found his answer after much internal dialogue, he opened his mouth to say something, but belatedly realized that she had run off into the sunset, a spectacular and small stream of tears following her wake. He blinked his brown eyes a few more times in confusion, then sighed and chalked it all up to the general weirdness of women. There was a reason why he didn't date them, after all (not that he was any better, mind you, but such thoughts often comforted him). 

He excused himself from Natasha and the children's company (and was met with a lot of resistance and two heavy weights clinging onto both of his legs), saying that he needed to get away from the noise a bit. He did not know where he was going--he simply let his legs carry him far from the wedding reception. His mind was rather blank as he walked on, not paying attention to his surroundings--

"Hey, watch it you!"

--which clearly annoyed the enchanted log he had stumbled over.

"S-sorry," Red said, slightly dumbstruck. The old log huffed indignantly at him before sprouting out legs and scuttling away like a beach crab into the forest.

Forest?

He looked around.

Yes, he was in a forest. And if the irritated talking log was anything to go by, he was in the Fae Forest--the last place he really wanted to be. Glancing around, he realized that this place was where he had met up with Rumplestiltskin just last night--the place where he had almost lost his virginity to the fruity Fae.

Now, one must wonder why a man would worry about losing such a thing. Weren't they usually eager to get rid of it? Well, for one, Red wasn't exactly your every day boorish man with a large or muscled frame, or even a male that was simply skinny and gangly. No, he had inherited his mother's girlish looks--right down to his child-bearing hips (not that he could bear any, of course, as that would defy the laws of human biology--magical or otherwise).

Moreover, not every man was raised by higher beings known for influencing the world over...particularly Death and Love, both of whom had taught him to treasure each moment and experience. As a result, he had come to believe that his first time had to be as special as possible. It was one of the things he wanted to have before he died.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a quiet voice from behind.

"I can't believe you ran off before I could ask you to dance." 

Red whirled about and stared at the tall, dark form of Wolf, startled. Before he could say anything, the silver-haired man continued,

"Actually, I suppose I can." There was a quiet chuckle. Red stood quietly, not knowing what to say. After a moment, Wolf took a few steps closer to him, so that he could clearly see his face in the dark gloom of the woods. "What on earth possessed you to wander all the way back here?"

Red finally found his voice. "I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going," he said, shrugging slightly and blushing with embarrassment. Wolf cocked his head and regarded him for a moment before responding.

"You sure do that often, don't you?" Before Red could even bristle properly with irritation, he continued, "Why don't we walk back over to the town hall? Hannah will miss us if we're gone too much longer."

Red hesitated, then nodded quietly, unusually subdued. He didn't know if it was a delayed reaction to escaping the perverted orange Fae's bed, the romantic atmosphere of the wedding, or just plain exhaustion from lack of sleep these past several days, but he was feeling decidedly out of sorts, not at all like his usual brusque self. Wolf held out a hand in invitation, and he stepped over to him. When he drew even, Wolf began walking as well, and soon they fell into step together, side by side. Red found himself wondering if Wolf was going to drape an arm over his shoulders again as they went, and was secretly pleased when the other man did exactly that once they reached the road out of the forest and into town.

The return trip to town was spent in silence, with only the sound of their footsteps interrupting the quiet November evening. As they drew near enough to the town hall to hear the lively chatter within, Red felt a stab of regret that this quiet time with Wolf was drawing to a close. Wolf had begun to grow on him, and he was only mildly irritated with himself when he realized he actually kind of enjoyed the other man's company. But this was how it had been at the masque in Tempus, wasn't it? He had greatly enjoyed Wolf's company then, though he hadn't known it was Wolf at the time...why should it be different now? 

Wolf stopped walking at the threshold of the hall, pausing just beyond the light spilling out into the street from the doors. Red looked up at him questioningly. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, an unexpected action that surprised Red.

"Would you...like to dance with me?" Wolf asked, turning his gaze to Red's face, meeting his eyes. Red gulped slightly, flushing at the expression on the other man's face. There was no smile, no smirk, nothing of Wolf's usual carefree manner. His eyes were shadowed, hard to read. Red took a breath to answer, and was surprised at the question that came out instead.

"Wouldn't you rather dance with the women?" His voice sounded weak and uncertain to his ears. It was almost as if he was afraid Wolf's answer would be an affirmative! What was _wrong_ with him!?

Expression still unreadable, Wolf dropped his arm from around Red's shoulders and moved to stand directly in front of him. Red watched him quietly, eyes wide, uncertain. Wolf leaned down slightly, and for a brief moment Red thought he was going to kiss him, but then realized that the angle was off. Wolf's cheek brushed Red's and his breath tickled his ear as he whispered,

"I only ever want to dance with you."

Red's heart did something funny in his chest and his knees went weak. Never in all of his life had anyone ever said something so romantic to him, sounding so seriously like they meant it. He pulled away from Wolf, but only far enough so that he could look into the man's eyes. Could what Hannah had said actually be true? How long they stood that way, he couldn't be sure. He opened his mouth to respond, starting to nod his acceptance, but was interrupted by someone saying,

"Look, there he is!" 

And someone else:

"Wolf, where did you go? You said you were going to dance with me next!"

"He never did! He was going to dance with _me_, weren't you, Wolf?" 

"I think you're both suffering delusions of grandeur, because I clearly remember him saying he was going to dance with _me_." 

The two men were suddenly surrounded by a press of female bodies, fine silks and brocades rustling, the scents of several different perfumes clashing against one another even as the owners of said finery tussled and fought with each other over who would claim the dashing silver-haired man for themselves. Wolf was dragged unceremoniously away from Red, who stared after him, gaping. Wolf's expression was pained, and, if Red didn't know any better, not more than a little irritated. But the unpleasant emotion soon vanished, replaced by a genial mask as Wolf smiled at the lady hanging on his left arm. He looked back once, his eyes filled with so much longing as they regarded Red that the baker felt as if he had been physically struck. Then he was gone, whisked back into the hall, leaving Red by himself in the dark street.

As he stood there trying to figure out how to react, two small figures emerged from the bright light of the reception, followed closely by a third, taller figure. It became apparent who all three were a moment later when the two smaller ones spotted him and immediately attached themselves to his person, and the taller one stepped out of the glare to reveal a very harassed-looking Robert.

"Oh, Red, there you are. Natasha said you'd stepped out..."

"Um...yes," Red acknowledged, not knowing what else to say. He was feeling rather dazed.

"I was going to take the children back to the manor to get them into bed, but I'm afraid if I do, Victor will do something I'll live to regret. I hate to impose, but, well...you look rather tired yourself...would you mind..." he trailed off, leaving the question half unasked. Red nodded dumbly.

"I'll put them to bed for you," he said, firmly shaking off any and all silly, impractical thoughts, ordering himself to get a grip or there'd be trouble to pay.

Robert seemed to sag somewhat with relief. "Thank you. You have no idea what a big help this is—" he was cut off by a loud shout and a crash coming from within the hall, followed almost immediately by alarmed noises from the guests. The manservant grimaced and whirled about, practically running back into the brightly-lit building. "I'll see you later, Red! Thank you!" And he was gone, leaving Red alone with two sleepy children and a lot of extremely confused thoughts. 

-----------------

It was warm.

It's strange. He hadn't felt this warm in a long, long time. Not since he was very small, sleeping snugly in the arms of his mother. Was it really so long ago since he had last felt such a comforting thing? He wanted to just snuggle into this slightly strange yet familiar feeling, wishing to never be woken from this sweet, sweet dream.

The soft embrace holding him in safety; the feel of long hair tickling his freckled cheeks; the scent of slick skin pressing up against…

Red jolted into the world of waking, rudely ripped away from the world of sleep with the horrible realization of something not being quite right. And that 'something not being quite right' happened to be sharing a bed with him when he ought to be in his own bed somewhere else.

He sat up, staring at Wolf's lean, muscled form as he slept, trying to figure out whether he should start raging as usual or just let him sleep. He blushed bright red as his brown eyes trailed the other man's body, scandalized beyond belief as he saw that it was quite naked (yet, thankfully, face down, but he still got an eyeful of Wolf's behind), except for where the blanket, which was pushed down just below the silver-haired man's lower thighs, covered. 

After a few scant moments of staring incredulously at this impossibility of finding a naked man in his bed, he felt he was rather justified in smacking Wolf upside the head when the older man reached out sleepily and pulled his protesting body towards his own, and he felt 'it' pressing up against him. His face was a paler shade of white as he managed to scramble away from the slowly awakening man, falling over the edge of the queen-sized bed in the process. 

"Ow!"

"Mmm…? 'S'it morning already?" Wolf asked lazily, yawning into his hand.

Bastard, Red thought to himself, the earlier days of spending nice quiet times with Wolf, all thoughts of last night and the previous day flying right out of his mind. How stupid he'd been to relax enough and trust the other man to be a gentleman! What the _hell_ was Wolf doing in his bed—and _naked_ to boot?! Growling, Red grabbed his clothes (which had been washed and pressed, he realized later, by Robert) from the chair he had left them on and stomped towards the connecting bathroom, not wanting the other man to peek on him as he changed.

"Wha…where am I? Red?!" Wolf sounded surprised, and just a bit...muddled? The baker stopped to look back at him, feeling a little worried as he witnessed the older male put a hand to his head, grimacing as if in pain. Wolf groaned as he began to stand up from the bed, letting the blanket fall down all the way and revealing his entire body in all of its glory to the dark-haired man.

Red's face took on a dark shade of his namesake.

"Go to hell, asshole!" he shouted, leaping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. For good measure, he roughly turned the lock, creating an unmistakable locking sound as the bolt slid into place, effectively shutting him off from the nude man in his bedroom.

"I think I'm already there," Wolf groaned. Red heard the bed creak as Wolf presumably sat back down on it. "Tell someone to turn off the sun, would you? And..." he trailed off and Red paused in pulling his night-shirt off over his head, almost in spite of himself, to listen. "Red?!" Wolf sounded highly alarmed when he spoke again. "What are you doing in my room?"

Red let out a snort of laughter. What was the man playing at? "I'm not in your room, you perverted bastard, you're in _mine_." There was silence on the other side of the door as Red deftly buttoned up his white uniform shirt. Then, so softly he wasn't sure if he'd heard it or was just imagining it, Wolf said,

"Oh, shit."

Before Red could even wonder what he meant by that, much less formulate a proper response, he heard a loud knocking on the bedroom door, followed quickly by Robert's cheerful voice. 

"Good afternoon, Red, are you awake yet? You haven't seen Wolf about, have—" The man stopped speaking abruptly, obviously having noticed the object of his search was in the room. Whether he was decent or not, Red had no way of knowing, and he hoped that Wolf had at least had the sense to cover himself up. What would Robert think about him now? He pulled on his black trousers, beginning to panic a little, and leaned against the door, wondering if it was safe to emerge from the bathroom or if that would only dig his grave deeper. Maybe Robert wouldn't realize he was there? He could only hope.

Robert recovered from his surprise admirably. "Good morning, Wolf. You're looking a little hung-over this morning, I see."

Wolf grumbled something indecipherable.

"There plenty of coffee in the kitchen. We've also got lots of nice leftovers from the reception last night, if you're hungry. You know, I could have sworn this was Red's room...have you seen him yet today?"

There was silence from Wolf, but a moment later, Robert clucked his tongue. "I see. I wonder where he could be? Well, I suppose he'll turn up sooner or later...his basket is still in the kitchen, after all. I'll uh...just leave you to get dressed, then?"

Wolf muttered something, causing Robert to laugh. Red heard the sound of the bedroom door closing, and of Robert's light footfalls as he walked away. Red held his breath, waiting and straining to hear what was going on in the room beyond the door. He heard the rustle of bedclothes, and then a few muffled curses as Wolf stumbled around the room. There was a bit more rustling, and then he heard the door open and close firmly, and then nothing, not even footsteps. He slowly, cautiously let out his breath, took another, and, hesitating slightly, called,

"Wolf?"

There was no answer. After a minute of utter silence, he worked up the nerve to unlock the bathroom door and slowly crack it open to peer out into the room. It was as empty as it had been last night when he'd gone to bed, the only difference between then and now being the weak winter sunlight filtering in through the curtains and the mess of the bedclothes.

When Red stepped into the kitchen a few minutes later, he was greeted happily by Robert and Natasha, who were sitting at the table with Wolf, who was hunched over his coffee and didn't look up when Red entered.

He was invited to sit, and while Robert got up to put together breakfast for Red, Natasha began regaling him of tales of the previous evening, letting him in on all that had transpired once he'd left. Victor and Hannah had left at midnight to begin their honeymoon, which would last for a week at an undisclosed location which Robert suspected was simply the small hunting lodge Victor kept some miles off down the road from his estate.

"And once those two had left, our man Wolf here somehow managed to get himself into a drinking contest with not one but _two_ young men from the village," Natasha informed him gleefully. "One right after the other! I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself! He drank the first under the table after nine shots of whiskey, then went on to take ten more to beat the second! After that he was barely able to walk properly, but somehow he managed to stand up and weave his way back to the manor without assistance, though Robert offered to help several times. I checked on him once and didn't find him passed out in the hall, so I figured he'd made his way to his bed alright. I have to say, I'm somewhat surprised he's awake and functional right now." Natasha ended her long monologue and turned to beam brightly at Wolf, who was staring quietly into his third cup of coffee, his shoulders hunched. Red stared at him too.

"I'm surprised he isn't _dead_," he commented, munching idly on a last bit of crisp bacon.

"Believe me, I wish I was," Wolf muttered, raising his coffee cup to his lips and not looking at anyone as he took several gulps.

Shaking his head, Red turned his attention back to the husband and wife servant pair; he was getting the feeling that something was missing. He realized what it was when he didn't feel something clinging to both of his sides. Hansel and Gretel were nowhere in sight. When his questing eyes met up with Natasha's, the woman smiled, and answered his unspoken question.

"Gretel's gone to meet with one of her little friends in the Fae Forest--" Wolf sprayed his coffee, getting a good portion of it on Robert. Natasha looked at him oddly before continuing, "—And as for Hansel, he is getting himself reacquainted with the market place, as we've run out of certain things in the pantry..." The baker nodded.

"I see..." he said levelly, not quite looking Wolf in the eye when their gazes happened to intercept one another.

The older woman tilted her head and regarded the sour-looking dark-haired man sitting before her. Chewing her lip, she wondered what was going on in the younger man's mind. "Why do you ask, Red, dear?" she inquired politely, hoping that she wasn't prying. As a mother of two, she couldn't help but to pry into the business of others. It was an interesting switch from her youth, when she hadn't been able to stand for gossip or to stick her nose where it didn't belong. But once she had settled down, got married, and had children, she found she couldn't help but fuss over others, especially those younger in years than her (even if the years separating them weren't that many to begin with).

"Well, I thought I'd tell the kids good-bye before I left Maple Town," Red replied, looking towards the kitchen window, to what lay outside. It had snowed again last night, and he suspect that it would only snow again later. Finished with his breakfast, the baker stood up from his seat.

"You're leaving already?" Natasha sounded surprised.

"I'm sorry..." Red said, reaching for his basket even as he spoke. "It's just that I'm ready to go home, so..."

"Oh...I see."

Red smiled a bit weakly, focusing on Natasha and Robert (who had stripped off his coffee-stained shirt and was washing it in the sink) and trying not to look at Wolf. "Thank you for everything," he said, edging towards the door as he spoke. 

"Come visit sometime," Robert said, smiling warmly at him.

"Yes," Natasha agreed. "I'm sure the children would love to see you again."

Red's smile was more genuine this time, and he nodded. "I'd like that," he said. His cloak was brought out and presented to him, and once he had it firmly tied around his shoulders, final good-byes were said and he walked off into the late morning, wishing with all his heart that he could just go home...but he still had to drop by Raddy's one last time before that, since his friend had requested it.

Sighing, he turned north and made his way towards the Fae Forest for what he hoped was the last time.

As he walked, he began to get the feeling that he was being followed. The feeling grew as he got closer to the forest, and when he finally left the timid warmth of the winter sunlight and entered the chilly shade of the woods, he was fairly certain that someone was behind him. So he stopped walking, turned around, and put his hands on his hips.

"You can come out. I know you're there."

There was a pause, but a tall figure eventually emerged from the shadows, shoulders hunched sheepishly. Red stared at Wolf, expressionless, while inside his heart and mind were having a small turf war over which would get to express their very conflicting opinions. His mind must have eventually been victorious, because when he finally spoke, what he said was:

"What do you want?" He was a little surprised and just a tiny bit concerned when Wolf flinched visibly. 

"I want to apologize...for this morning," he said. Red thought he sounded a little troubled, not at all like his usual cocky self. The baker said nothing, waiting to see if Wolf would say any more. Wolf glanced at his face, winced, and looked away. Red could see that his eyes were quite bloodshot. "I don't remember much of last night...after I won the second time," Wolf said, his voice quiet. "I got back to the mansion and remember a dark bedroom. I thought it was mine, so I just...got in bed." 

"Naked," Red pointed out. Wolf blinked. 

"Well...yeah." He looked at Red again, grimaced, and reached up a hand to massage his temples. "I didn't see you. Honestly," he added, when Red snorted in disbelief. "If I had, I would have gone to a different room."

"Are you sure about that?" Red asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Wolf briefly squeezed his eyes shut.

"Maybe," he said. When Red scowled, he glared back, which surprised Red somewhat. "Or I would have camped out on the floor. It's not like I did anything to you last night..." he hesitated, and his eyes widened slightly as something occurred to him. "...Did I?" 

His expression was, as far as Red could tell, genuinely worried. He felt the edge of his anger towards the man for his latest indecent stunt soften. "No," he said quietly. Wolf slumped slightly, clearly relieved.

"Thank Kiwi," he muttered.

Red crossed his arms and firmly did not think about what Hannah had said to him last night, nor about any of his own thoughts from then. "Why are you so concerned? I thought you _wanted_ to get into my pants," he said, voice sharp. 

Wolf scowled. "I do. But only if you want me there. I'm not such a sick bastard that I'd force myself on someone who doesn't want me to, despite what you think."

Red felt himself blush, and he scowled and whirled about. What Hannah had told him last night leapt unbidden to his mind, and his scowl deepened. It couldn't really be true, what she had said...could it? He had gone a good twenty paces before he paused. He hadn't heard Wolf move, but then, when did he ever? Even so, he turned around, almost despite himself, and saw that the silver-haired man was still standing where he had left him.

"Well, if you're going to follow me, come on then," he shouted, sounding more angry than he really was. Without waiting to see what Wolf would do, he turned back around and stalked off. When Wolf drew even with him a minute or so later and fell into step beside him, he didn't say anything, and they walked in silence after that.


	10. The Tale of Snow White

**CHAPTER 10**

The Tale of Snow White

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen," Raddy said. "I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem, Raddy. I'm sure you'd do us the same courtesy as well," Red replied diplomatically, staring between his friend and his current companion. For some odd reason. the two of them seemed rather tense in each other's presence, and it sort of mystified the baker (Wolf had told him about his escapades during the days he'd gone in search of Rumplestiltskin's name, but had omitted the part where he'd effectively ripped Raddy's wooden mask off of his face). He wanted to inquire about it, but wisely bit his tongue to keep the question from leaving his mouth.

It didn't mean that he had to like the fact that Raddy was stiff as a board and that Wolf was fidgeting like a girl on her first date right next to him.

"So, Raddy…what did you need to talk to me about?" the baker asked, reaching out for a biscuit from a plate that the brown fairy had set out. His friend had indicated that he had something serious to speak to him about some days earlier, but knowing that Red had no time to be discussing anything beyond saving Hannah and his own hide from a lecherous orange fairy, had asked for him to return at a later time. He took a bite of his biscuit, waiting for an answer.

The brown fairy seemed to finally show some real anxiety then, as his wings fluttered on his back a few times, a release of nervous energy. His face was, as always, masked, so it was rather difficult to know if he was about to say something or if he was trying to hold himself back from saying anything at all.

"I need to talk to you about…" Raddy began finally, finding his nerve. "…Snow White."

A pregnant silence stretched among the three seated in the kitchen of the quaint little log cabin located deep within the Fae Forest. Wolf had moved out of his fidgety phase and was now back to normal, curiosity plain on his face. Raddy had developed a sudden interest in his lap, and was twisting his hands clasped hands nervously therein. And Red had become like a living statue as his mind tried to process what Raddy had said.

He had known this was going to happen sooner or later ever since he'd reunited with his friend mere days ago, and had dreaded it. But that didn't make being faced with it any easier.

The dark-haired man forced himself to breathe, because the process of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide was indeed a good thing for his health, until some scientist somewhere proved otherwise, and dying of asphyxiation was an unpleasant way to go. That and the fact that Wolf was giving him a look which pretty much told him that if he held his tongue much longer he might have taken the situation into his own hands--or his own tongue, as it were.

_I wouldn't mind a kiss from him right now_, Red's traitorous mind thought. Said thought caused the young man to scowl, further confusing Wolf and giving the wrong impression to Raddy. He swatted the errant idea away before it took over and flushed his reason down to who knew where.

"What's this about Snow White? Isn't she dead?" Wolf finally inquired when it became apparent Red wasn't going to say anything, looking at Raddy with open interest. The muddy fairy gazed at him, choosing the words he wanted carefully before he spoke.

"Not quite," he answered at length, surprising Red. Had the baker heard right?

"What do you mean…not dead?" Red inquired, sternly preventing the hope rising within him from reaching a point where it could be tossed down painfully to the ground.

"What I mean to say is that Snow…is under a spell."

Red blinked. Then, because he still couldn't think of anything to say, he blinked again. Finally, he decided that repeating what Raddy had just said would be a perfectly acceptable thing to do at this point, so that is what he did: "She's under a spell?"

Raddy nodded. "I just...recently found out. A man passed through this way not a week ago, and he stopped to ask for directions...I'm not sure how he knew I'm related to Snow, but he brought her up..."

Red thought this was somewhat suspicious. "A man? What did he look like?"

Raddy shrugged. "Blond hair, well dressed..."

Red shook his head at Raddy's vague description, and forged ahead. "How do you know he told you the truth?"

Instead of replying, Raddy just looked at him. The brown Fae's silence spoke of one elegantly raised eyebrow hidden beneath his mask. Red flushed slightly.

"So...I'm guessing you want to go up north to break the spell?" Raddy nodded and said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for Red to continue. "And...you want me to come with you?" There was a smile in Raddy's voice when he said,

"Would you mind?"

Red fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, aware of both Raddy's intense gaze and Wolf's curious one. He really _didn't_ want to...He honestly just wanted to go _home._ He certainly didn't want to trek all the way to Saison...in the middle of winter, on top of that...In fact, he'd be perfectly happy if he never had to set foot in that particular kingdom again. But...

"Yeah...I'll go. I don't have anything better to do," Red muttered, angrily cursing himself for being such a push-over. If it had been anyone but Raddy...

"Thank you, Red," Raddy said warmly. Red hunched his shoulders and nodded mutely in response. There was a brief silence, before Wolf spoke up.

"Um...sorry if I'm interrupting or anything, but would someone mind telling me what's going on? You knew Snow White?"

"_Know_," Raddy said, somewhat forcefully.

"Er...yeah. Know. Sorry. Red?"

Red wondered again at Wolf's awkwardness in Raddy's presence, glancing at the amber-eyed man, who he could see was still somewhat hung-over, though he looked much better than he had before his coffee. He also noticed that Wolf's usual trademark stubble was once again dotting his jaw. He idly thought that Wolf looked nicer without it, but that it also suited him. Either way, the man was quite good-looking...

Red scowled again at the direction his thoughts were taking, causing a confused and slightly hurt expression on Wolf's face. He wanted to apologize, but instead what came out was,

"Yeah...we were...friends..."

---------------

_10 years ago…_

It was a dark and stormy night…

…as tradition would usually dictate in these sorts of clichéd scenarios.

So, to break said cliché, we say that it was actually a bright and clear day…

…but that wouldn't be a correct statement either. Actually, the day was pretty non-descript as days went. Truthfully it was one of those lazy, drizzly days where you're most likely stuck inside with nothing to do and your energy getting all pent up inside your body from the lack of activity (this description, of course, is for those who actually get up from their chairs every once in a while and go do something outside, whereas for those who simply laze about during any season, time, or day, this last sentence need not apply). The clouds were a gloomy grey; it certainly looked like rain.

Red Reaper gazed outside of his little bakery in the forest, and noted that the skies above had elected to shower them with snow, rather than droplets of water. It was cold outside and the young baker was glad that he was inside, where he had a roaring fire going to keep him nice and warm, and a good lock to keep stalkers away. It had been months since the incident with the man known as the Big Bad Wolf, but he still sometimes had the feeling that he was being watched or followed by the silver-haired man. Luckily, while in the sanctity of the Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits, he was relatively safe from ne'er-do-wells and miscreants of any kind, as the patron demon of the ridiculously named forest wasn't too fond of anything less sweet and cuddly than, say, a bunny rabbit. Anyone with bad intentions who entered the demon's domain usually ended up on the wrong side of the Demon's River.

It had been a slow day for business for the fifteen-year-old, and he guessed that it was only going to become slower now that there was snow.

Smiling to himself, he left the counter to head over to the front of the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'open' to 'closed'. Humming a merry little ditty, he skipped back behind the counter and into the back where his homely little kitchen was, the melody dying on his lips when he reached it. The room was painted and decorated in cheerful colors, haphazardly done by divine powers whose strengths lay more with meddling in the affairs of mortals than in painting or hammering something to the wall (poor Death, always somehow managed to get a nail stuck in her skull). But he felt that it was the best kitchen in the entire world just because it was so unique…although he always felt something was missing.

All things considered, he hadn't been living alone very long, so that might account for the acute loneliness he felt whenever he woke up each morning. From the time of his parents' deaths he had been living with his grandmother, up until a little after his fifteenth birthday when he'd felt that the old woman was beginning to smother him. He had moved out sometime in the spring.

Once he'd settled in his new home in the forest, his godmother Death made a point of visiting him once a week, if only to check up on how he was doing. She'd been taking longer and longer between visits recently. Red knew she was forever busy with her job, and so understood that she couldn't always make time to visit, and bore the loneliness without too much problem. All he had to do when he started feeling _too_ lonely, after all, was to imagine he was still living with Grandma Muffet, and then his solitude didn't seem nearly as harsh.

Even so, he wasn't so detached that he wasn't grateful when the front door slammed open with a BANG and his godmother walked into the kitchen a moment later. He turned to welcome her with a cheerful smile, and was a bit puzzled when he noticed her expression.

Since her face wasn't really a face so much as a human skull, Death's 'expressions' were actually quite difficult to read, because, to be quite frank, they didn't really exist. But Red had grown up around the imposing entity, and could read her moods and body language very well indeed. This was why his cheerful smile faltered somewhat when he saw the sort of mood she was in.

HELLO, RED DEAR, she said.

"Good evening, Godmother," Red responded. "Would you like some tea?" he asked, moving towards the stove as he spoke, even though he knew she would decline.

NO THANK YOU, DEAR, she responded as he'd known she would. He nodded but put the kettle on anyway, thinking to have a cup for himself.

"Is everything alright?" he asked her after a few moments of silence, wherein Death seemed to fidget nervously. She didn't _actually_, but Red could see the mood she was in well enough to imagine that she did. It was making him twitchy himself.

OF COURSE, she responded. There was a pause. ACTUALLY, I HAVE A FAVOR TO ASK OF YOU...

Red glanced at his godmother from the stove, where he was pouring hot water into his cup. "Alright," he said easily enough. His godmother sometimes asked him for favors, and he was always happy to do them. If someone had told him that in ten years time he would be sick of these chores, he would have stared at them incredulously and laughed.

THE QUEEN OF SAISON HAS REQUESTED YOUR PRESENCE, Death told him. SHE HAS A JOB FOR YOU, I BELIEVE.

Red nodded and brought his tea over to the table. He offered his godmother a seat, but she politely declined, as always. He took a seat himself, holding his tea with both hands, and looked up at her curiously. If he didn't know any better, and he wasn't sure he did, he'd have thought Death didn't want him to accept this chore.

"Of course I'd like to help," he said. "Snow and Raddy both live in Saison! Maybe I can visit with them a bit after I do what the Queen needs." He smiled, and Death's shoulders appeared to sag ever so slightly. He frowned momentarily, watching his godmother from beneath his eyelashes as he blew gently on the hot surface of his tea, but an instant later she seemed back to her usual self.

THANK YOU, DEAR, she said, though he thought her voice sounded slightly hollow…well, more hollow than usual, at any rate. Red shivered slightly with sudden apprehension, but then brushed it off when she continued, I HAVE TO BE GOING NOW, UNFORTUNATELY. THE DEAD WON'T REAP THEMSELVES, YOU KNOW.

Death turned to go, but paused as she suddenly remembered something. She hesitated a moment, and it worried Red somewhat as the grim reaper stood there, motionless. At length, she rummaged through her sleeves and produced a parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. She handed this over to her godson.

I ALMOST FORGOT. I…NEED YOU TO GIVE THIS TO THE QUEEN UPON ARRIVAL.

"Of course, Godmother. Whatever you say." Red smiled, and saw his godmother to the door. Then he returned to the kitchen to finish his tea, trying to ignore the sudden nervousness that was building in the back of his mind.

------------

The journey to the Kingdom of Saison was a long one, but one Red always felt was incredibly worth it. His best friends lived in this part of the world (or were within reach of it, in Azrael's case), and he would do just about anything to see them again on a more frequent basis. Red, Raddy, Snow, and Azrael always had lots of misadventures together in the kingdom of eternal winter. Activities such as escaping from angry dwarves, scaling mountaintops just to have a taste of the snow located there, or trying to solve the mystery of Balrogs and if they had wings were common.

Those were good times (if one ignored the fact that they almost got killed/maimed/shredded/baked/cooked/stewed/etc. every single time they set foot outside of Snow's castle home together). It was as if they were all meant to be together to have each and every one of these episodes of wacky hijinks.

The Kingdom of Saison was currently under the rule of the Queen Helen du Trois, step-mother to Princess Snow White, second wife of Cornelius White, White Witch of the Eastern Kingdom. As this is a rather large mouthful to say all in one go, from here on out we shall refer to this rather wickedly awesome queen as simply 'Helen'. The kingdom itself was known for being blanketed year-round in snow, due to the fact that Winter (who happened to be Death's husband), lived close by and preferred to keep as cool as possible. Their main exports were the various precious and semi-precious gems that were mined in the ring of mountains surrounding them. The court was currently looking into a way of keeping at least half of their kingdom into something of a warmer climate so they wouldn't have to rely on other kingdoms so much for goods such as fruits and vegetables.

The capital was Icicle Town, a large village made famous by a rather unfortunate incident known far and wide as the Saison Serial Killings. All that Red knew about the incident, as an outsider, was that it somehow had to do with the former queen going insane before she gave birth to Snow.

North of Icicle Town was Snow Castle (often called Snow's Castle, because of the princess' presence there); a beautiful structure hundreds of years old and still as fresh-looking as the day it was built. Tall spires covered in snow and ice stretched high into the air, reaching far into the sky, making the castle seem imposing and cold to those unfamiliar with its warm interior. Raddy lived here with his mother and step-sister, though he seemed to prefer staying outdoors more and more as he grew older.

Red was allowed entrance by the guards at the gate and escorted to the throne room where the queen presided over her court. As he followed his guide through the castle, he found himself becoming increasingly uneasy, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. And where was Snow? Usually by the time he'd entered the castle grounds, she knew he was there, and would come running to embrace him in an enthusiastic hug. But there was no tell-tale sound of running feet this time, and he was guided into the queen's presence without incident.

The atmosphere in the usually warm and inviting throne room seemed absolutely frigid as Red was ushered in and announced to the queen. He swallowed, suddenly and inexplicably nervous as he regarded the queen. She was resplendent in a gold-colored satin gown trimmed and accented with black and white. Her golden hair was arranged in a severe coif around which her diamond-encrusted crown had been carefully placed. She regarded him with ice-blue eyes as he approached, and watched him unblinkingly when he stopped at the appropriate place in front of the throne and bowed.

"I'm here on behalf of the entity Death, who asked me to deliver this," he said without preamble, proffering the brown package. The queen flicked a finely manicured hand and a page emerged from the nearby vicinity to accept the package from Red and take it to the queen, who set it aside without more than a glance. Her attention was fixed on Red, and the young man shifted nervously where he stood, waiting to be dismissed. But when the queen finally spoke after what seemed a small eternity, it wasn't to give him leave.

"Young man," she said, her voice as smooth as satin. "Can you find me an apple?" she asked, tilting her head to the side slightly as she spoke. Her voice put Red in mind of velvet-covered ice.

"An apple, my lady?" he asked, surprised and somewhat confused by this odd request.

"Yes, my child, the finest apple you can find," she said, smiling sweetly. Red wasn't sure why this caused a shiver to run down his spine, but it did. "Please bring it to me as soon as possible," she added.

"But...whatever for?" He realized later that one probably shouldn't question the requests of royalty, but he was so confused at that point it didn't occur to him then that he'd do best to just consent and oblige the queen.

"Oh, don't you know? Snow's favorite fruit is apples...she loves them blood red, round and sweet...Wouldn't you like to find her one? I'm sure that she would appreciate the gift..."

The young baker considered asking the woman where exactly Snow had gotten to so that he could go find her, but the question never came. He simply nodded his acceptance of her request and began to move away after he bowed himself out of the throne room. Once outside Red let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

Had the queen of Saison always been so…frigid?

_Maybe I'm just being paranoid over nothing_, Red tried to rationalize with himself. It was really his first proper meeting with Snow's stepmother, after all, and royals rarely ever had to meet with the common folk, as he was. And there was the chance, since it was their first meeting in a rather official setting that perhaps what Red had just witnessed was simply the woman's professional attitude. After all, he had often heard stories from her children about what a wonderful person Helen du Trois was. Maybe when he was able to meet her under less job-related circumstances (perhaps on Snow's next birthday) he would get to see this side of the queen.

Finally convincing himself that everything was just fine, he set off to Icicle Town to see if they had any good fruit for sale.

------------

It had taken Red quite a while to accomplish the task given to him by Queen Helen (rather surprising, given how simple it had seem at first), but he had done it. Sure, he had ended up visiting several towns (which were, for some odd reason, apple-less); he had crossed mountains (and stumbled accidentally into the home of a rather angry balrog, that chased him clear across a rickety old and unfaithful stone bridge.), wandered down along a river (which had been filled with annoying little water nymphs who knew that he was a man and not a girl as he was putting on) and straight into the farmlands to get some quality fruit.

But in the end, it was all worth it. For as he trekked his way back to Snow Castle as a blizzard began to blow, he held in his hand the perfect apple for dear, sweet Snow.

Once Red returned to Saison in a flurry of freezing snow and wind, he set about immediately searching for his friend. He checked all their favorite places carefully, even doubling back on a few occasions in order to be completely certain he hadn't missed her by accident. After much time spent in his fruitless search, Red finally admitted defeat and returned to the castle, thinking to ask for the queen's help.

He was granted a private audience at once as soon as his presence was made known to her. He had been hoping that the absence of her court would cause her freezing manner to warm a bit, but, once he was alone in the audience chamber with her, he felt she was just as cold as the first time they'd met. 

"I have returned with an apple, as requested, my lady, but I can't find Snow anywhere," Red told her, trying not to fidget nervously.

"I see," the queen said. She frowned for a moment, her countenance as cold as a block of ice, before she smiled at him. It was a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and made him even more uncomfortable than when she had been frowning. "This is most strange...I do wonder where she's hidden herself this time..." It wasn't that Snow purposefully hid from others; true, she enjoyed a good game of hide-and-seek as much as the next young woman, but her courage often outweighed her common sense. She usually ended up inadvertently causing major panics in the court while she was off to explore the caves in the mountains south of Icicle Town. She would pack a lunch and a snack, and drag Raddy or Azrael or sometimes, if he was around, Red, along with her on her latest adventure. This caused Raddy, who preferred the safety and familiarity of the forest to the cold, still dampness of the underground, no small amount of stress, but he always went anyway, the dutiful older brother. Azrael, when he was present and could be prevailed upon to join in with Snow's latest expedition, always went as cheerfully as his young friend and with the same sense of unconcerned adventure. Red enjoyed the excursions as well, though he was always happy when they ended, unlike Snow, who he could tell was already planning her next escapade.

"Well, then, my dear, would you mind very much if I asked you to continue looking for her? And in the mean time, why don't you just give me the apple? I'll keep it safe, and apply my own resources to finding her. Whether you find her or not, come back in three days to give me your report, and you shall have my news. How does that sound?" The endearments she used echoed hollowly and made Red twitch. Truthfully he wanted nothing better than to get out of the queen's presence and never return, but his concern for his friend overrode his distrust of the queen. He agreed and handed the apple over, being very careful not to so much as brush her fingers in the exchange. He had the strange feeling that if he did, he would be transformed into a statue of ice.

He left her presence then, wishing heartily that he hadn't agreed to come back.

He started off his search within the castle itself, asking the guards if they had seen Snow anywhere recently. Every time he managed to pin one of the men down to ask about her, he received strange looks, or glances shared by the pairs of patrolling men in armor he often found, but no actual answers. The baker then moved on to the servants who worked inside Snow Castle, and there he was met with more dead ends and some rather odd results. Whenever he said the crown princess' name, the maids would burst into tears and the man-servants would try to chase him off with a broom (or any nearby bludgeoning stick they could get their hands on).

How strange. He hadn't seen such reactions about the adventurous girl since she had decided to run off with a group of gypsies, announcing to the entire court that she was tired of being a princess and wanted to travel until she found a circus so she could live for the rest of her life as a bearded lady. What could be the reason this time round?

It caused Red no end of worry as he increased his pace, now in a frantic run all over various parts of Saison he thought his friend was likely to visit in search for a break from the tedium of castle life. All searches seemed futile as there seemed to be neither hide nor hair of the girl. It was as if she had disappeared from the very face of the world.

And so it was that he dragged his feet back towards Snow Castle, returning to the queen empty handed, at the end of three long days of turning an entire kingdom upside down.

The woman must have been in a good mood, because she had barely batted an eye when he gave her his news upon arrival in the private audience chamber.

He stared Helen du Trois in the eye, stood up straight, and spoke in the squeakiest voice in the entire world as he explained in explicit detail what he had done, in the hopes of stalling whatever bad reaction she would give him once he was finished. Snow had often said that her mother was never one to take bad news too well, especially when she was busy and was stressed.

Once he finished, he waited for her response. And got...nothing. Just _nothing_. Not the telltale flutter of her eyes, a hand to her forehead as she felt faint—she didn't even press her lips into a frown. She was just…_was_.

"How disappointing," she said, calmly upon her throne, looking down upon the baker she had sent off in search of her stepdaughter. She smiled sweetly and a chill went up Red's spine as he beheld it. The blonde woman reached over to her side and took up a fine wooden box, which the baker could tell had been carved lovingly by the elves of Abel from the rather intricate designs all over it. "But no matter, my child, as I've already divined the whereabouts of dear young Snow White."

Red perked up at this news. "Where is she?" he asked urgently, not even questioning how the queen had found out where his friend was hiding, when he hadn't found her with all the searching about he'd done in the last three days.

The queen smiled and stood up, stepping down the dais where her throne was situated. She approached the youth in red with the box held carefully in her hands. "Young Snow White is hiding within a cottage deep in the forest east of this castle," the woman explained. "I shall soon be sending an escort to bring her home, however. I fear that I may have been neglecting her, giving the poor child reason to run away." She pressed the box to the boy's hand, gesturing for him not to open it when he peered at it curiously. The queen turned and retook her seat, addressing the baker from that vantage for the remainder of their time.

"That is a gift…a token of my…a _peace offering_. Yes, to show how terribly sorry I am for ignoring her and putting my duties as a queen over my duties of being her mother," the royal said, not looking a bit out of place or at all sorry. "Please give it to her, and I'm sure that she will happily return to us."

Red stared at the so-called gift in his hands, studying it and wondering what could be inside. He was quite sure that it couldn't have been the apple he had painstakingly searched the kingdoms for. It would have gone soft by now—possibly dry in the middle and lost it perfect sweetness and tartness levels. He had the urge to shake it like a Christmas present to guess what lay inside, but thought it prudent to, at the very least, not do it in the presence of the woman who was giving the gift.

"Is that all you would wish of me, milady?" he inquired politely, wishing he could just go already.

"Yes," the queen answered with a grave nod of her elegant head. "That will be all. You may go."

And it was with that dismissal that Red scurried once again from the queen's presence, privately thanking the powers that be that she hadn't requested that he return again.

He made his way out of the palace and headed east, entering the woods the queen had spoken of with Snow's gift tucked safely into his basket. The forest was quiet, asleep under its winter blanket of snow. Red walked quickly to keep warm, and also because he was eager to see his friend.

He spent quite a long time in the forest searching for the cottage; the queen had not given him very explicit directions, after all. It was actually the sound of Snow White's off-key singing that helped him find the proper location in the end. He hurried towards his friend's voice, and realized he would probably never have noticed the cottage if it had not been for her singing.

"Snow!" he called as he approached the snug, cozy little building. The singing stopped abruptly and there was silence. Then he heard pounding footsteps, and a moment later the front door slammed open and Snow, black hair flying and cheeks rosy with good health, practically flew from the opening to tackle Red in a delighted embrace.

"Red!" she exclaimed happily. "You came to see me! Come in out of the cold, I'll get you some tea! I'm so happy to see you! What have you been up to?"

Red laughed at Snow's cheerful welcome and let her drag him into the warmth of the cottage, smiling as he slid answers in around her constant onslaught of questions. She insisted he sit at the kitchen table (around which seven rather large chairs and one smaller stool were neatly arranged) while she prepared the tea, and then came to sit with him once the beverage was ready to be served.

"What are you doing out here?" Red finally managed to ask, once Snow was daintily sipping her tea. She smiled cheerfully.

"I'm a house-maid!" she said excitedly. "Seven of the loveliest men you'll ever see live here, and they took me on as their maid. I do all the cooking and cleaning while they're at work, and they let me sleep in the little bed and share their food and fire with me." She beamed.

Red stared at her in amazement. "Seven…men? I don't want to sound…paranoid, but…isn't that sort of…dangerous?"

Snow laughed and shook her head. "No, no…they're really dwarves, but the look so like men, despite the ears…they're all rather tall for dwarves, you see, and sort of self-conscious about it. Besides, I don't really think they're interested in things like that."

Well…That was something, at least. Red knew he could trust Snow's judgment. She was innocent, yes, but she wasn't naïve, and could tell what was what when it came to things of…this nature.

The two friends chatted pleasantly for some time, and eventually finished off the tea. The sun was just beginning to set outside when Red suddenly remembered he was still 'working', and retrieved the box the queen had given him from the bottom of his basket.

"Um, this is for you," he said, offering the box to her. "From the queen," he added.

She blinked, then smiled prettily. "From Momma?" she asked, reaching out eagerly to accept the gift. "I wonder what it is?" Practically bouncing in her seat, she carefully opened the lid and peered inside. "Ooooh," she breathed, her eyes wide. Red surreptitiously tried to peer over her shoulder, but he needn't have bothered, as she quite quickly lifted the contents of the box and into his sight.

It was the apple he had found for Snow, though to his eye something seemed…not quite on. He wasn't certain he could say exactly what it was, though.

Without waiting to hear what Red had to say on the subject of the strange gift (not to mention washing the apple), Snow took a large, satisfying bite out of the juicy fruit. The baker saw that nothing was amiss as the princess blissfully chewed on her rather big morsel and was able to relax, thinking he was being paranoid over nothing…

…for about two seconds. Tops.

It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye the worst thing that could ever happen to him at that point in time did, and he was powerless to stop it.

One moment, Snow White was fine, sitting upon her chair, mindfully eating a fine red apple—the next he was holding onto her, trying to help her breathe in any way he could think of. _Oh, Overpowers, she's not breathing._

Red was in a state of shock as he held her still body on the ground, upturned chairs and dropped china around him, semi-hot liquid permeating the seat of his trousers. He could still feel her warmth—feel every pulse go through her entire being as his mind tried to register what was going on—fighting to deny and rationalize exactly what was happening with each passing moment—something no one would ever want to experience: his best friend was dying in his arms and he could do nothing about it.

"Snow? Snow, answer me!" the baker cried, gently shaking the girl's body. His breaths were coming in short huffs; his eyes were darting about for anything that could help. A potion; some enchanted jewel; a magical pink pony—anything that would make Snow White open her eyes. He shook her again, more urgently. "Snow! Snow!"

His voice was soon filled with despair as he failed to rouse his friend even a little.

"Snow…how can this…no, no, no…you can't die…but…what can I…I…" Red let out a sob as he held Snow close to himself, burrowing his face into her neck as he tried to wrap his mind around the grief about to bubble and burst from within him. Luckily for him, he did not experience this acute anguish for very long, as the door of the cottage suddenly banged open, revealing the escort that the Queen had sent after him. He looked up, hope in his eyes as he beheld the men in armor, walking into the room. Maybe, just maybe…something could be done! Yes! Maybe it wasn't too late to save Snow!

"I-I'm so glad to see you. You haven't any idea—Snow, you have to—"

"Looks like the Queen was right," said one of the men, cutting Red off before he could finish his sentence.

"Yes…who would have thought that it would be her best friend who was trying to do her in?" said another, confusing the youth. Do what and the who in? Snow? _Him_? His eyes widened as he realized what they were insinuating. Could they be possibly thinking that _he_ wanted to kill Snow? "The poisoned comb…the rib crushing corset…who else would have thought of such things, but the godson of Death?"

It was inevitable, really, for people to figure out who he was and what he did sometimes at the request of his godmother. When the people of Saison first found out it had been in the middle of a street when his godmother had needed some advice about poisons, on the behalf of two star-crossed lovers from two feuding families. She'd needed to know if a certain herb crushed and mixed with another one could be deadly, and Red had ended up telling her everything he knew on the subject as they strolled together, as if nothing were wrong with a human boy walking around with an animated skeleton. The freckled baker had somewhat of an obsession with herbs, as they could hurt just as they could heal and he thought having knowledge of such things would prove useful in the future. Who could have guessed that it would spell his downfall?

"Red Muffet Inlaw Reaper, you are hereby charged for plotting against the kingdom and the murder of Princess Snow White. You will be brought to justice in a court…"

------------

"Yeah…best friends," Red thought somewhat bitterly, thinking back on the most wretched week he'd ever had. Wolf just watched him quietly for some time, trying to formulate a reply.

"Well…if it isn't too much trouble…" the silver haired man began tentatively, "…maybe we can…talk about it?" He regarded the dark haired man carefully, bracing himself in case of an outburst or possible bodily harm for even suggesting something like that. "Because, you know…It'd be nice to be in the loop if we're all going to be traveling together."

"Who said we were traveling together?" the baker snapped, without meaning to.

"Better that than having me dog your every step along the way, isn't it?" the leather-clad man countered, obviously recovered from his hangover if his trademark smirk was anything to tell from. He was right, of course, and Red said nothing. He just glowered. "So?"

Red looked at Raddy; Raddy (he presumed) stared back.

"Wanna help me on this one?" the baker asked. The Fae nodded in agreement.

"Of course, Red."


	11. Cuddles

**CHAPTER 11**

Cuddles

"Now, Red…you know I love you, right?"

"That's debatable, but go on."

"Well, you also know that I would do anything for you?"

"Pretty much."

"And no matter what happens, I will always return to your side?"

"The evidence from the last ten or so years hasn't said otherwise."

"Good. Glad we have all of that settled. Now, please tell me exactly why we have this distasteful little _creature_ following us to Saison?"

Said 'creature' was none other than the wolfish puppy known as Wulf, who had been both bane and boon during the entire Rumplestiltskin debacle, and who seemed to have taken a shine to Red, despite their rocky start. At the moment he was a furry roadblock separating Wolf from walking by Red's side. Oh, sure. The blasted dog was all cuteness and adorable antics as he tried to unsuccessfully nip at the end of Red's cherry-colored cape, but when it came to the silver-haired man all he got was bared teeth and snarls that could scare off a troll. Raddy just thought it was amusing to watch the three together as they trekked through the snow.

"Is it really necessary to bring him with us?" Wolf asked, glaring at the little mutt, who tried snapping at his heels.

"Do you want to try stopping him?" Red asked, raising an eyebrow. "You could lose a hand in those jaws."

Wolf scowled, but didn't argue. Red had a point. But that didn't mean he was going to be happy about the presence of the interfering canine. Things were finally looking up for him, or at least, tilting vaguely upwards in a gentle incline, and now he had yet _another_ obstacle in his path. It was enough to drive a man to an angry, marauding rampage. He suddenly felt a slight hint of sympathy for his father where none had existed before.

"Besides, he's not hurting anything," Red continued. "It's not like he's actually managed to bite you."

Even as Red said this, the dog's head jerked down and his jaws snapped right at where Wolf's ankle would have been had he not anticipated just such an action.

"And what will you do if he does bite me, hmm?" Wolf asked.

"Laugh, probably," Red answered.

Wolf heaved a dramatic sigh. "This is the thanks I get for my love and devotion," he said. "You'd probably laugh if I got rabies and died."

"Probably, yes," Red agreed easily, though privately he knew he wouldn't. But it wasn't like he could just admit that aloud. He had his principles, after all, and he was still somewhat angry with Wolf for his latest indecent stunt (though, if he could just admit it to himself, he _had_ quite enjoyed the view).

The conversation eventually turned to other, more pleasant topics, and the three men and their furry little companion made good time on their way north to the mountain range that separated the kingdom of Saison from most of the rest of the continent. Said mountain range formed a complete ring around the half-snowy, half-spring kingdom which was home to the royal family of White. Saison had for the longest time been snow and winter year-round, but after an agreement had been made between Saison and the kingdom of Wonderland, half of Saison now enjoyed lovely, mild weather all year round.

Unfortunately, as they were traveling, Red and his group had to pass through in the half that was still very much several degrees below zero, complete with strong winds and chances of snow flurries. The baker really wished he'd thought to wear a warmer jacket as they scaled the cold mountain road. It had been either the mountain pass or the merchant's route which would have taken them longer to get through. Normally, he would have opted for the merchant's route, but the mountain road connecting to all the others in the continent was the fastest way to get to Saison from Maple Town, and he was eager to get to Saison and get gone, so it was the obvious choice.

He just hoped that they wouldn't run into trouble along the way. As fast as the path through the mountains was, it was also thrice as dangerous as any other.

_Maybe I __should__ have taken us to a port town..._The dark haired man thought as he found himself in a bit of trouble halfway up one of the mountains. He had slipped on some snow-covered ice and landed rather uncomfortably on his rear end. _Perhaps Nimble. Sure, it would be farther away, but the trip by boat towards Knocker and then by foot to Icicle Town would be a lot more smoother than this...And it would have been nice to go sailing again...haven't done that in a while. Note to self: Go on a vacation near the ocean if I survive the next month or so._

"I really don't know why we have to take this path, Red," Wolf said, as he stooped to help the dark-haired man to his feet. "Plus, I don't feel like we should be up here..."

"I agree with him, Red," Raddy stated, floating over to the two. Wulf had gone on ahead to scout the area, confident that Wolf wouldn't do anything to the baker in his absence, the over-possessive pup. It had taken the fairy a good five minutes of convincing it that to keep on moving would be beneficial to them all. "I can feel something coming..."

Red shivered, though because of the cold or because of Raddy's doomful speculation, he couldn't say.

"Well, it's either this way or we trek back down the mountain and get on the merchant road, which would be a big waste of time, since we're almost there now," Red responded, despite his own sense of foreboding. Had he been alone, he probably _would_ have turned back and gone the long way, but since he had both Raddy and Wolf with him, not to mention the dog, he felt rather better about his chances of survival than he would have were he alone.

He watched Raddy shift uncomfortably and saw Wolf shrug his shoulders. He knew Raddy wanted to get to Saison as fast as possible, and that Wolf would follow him wherever he ended up going. And as this route was the fastest...probably, Red decided it would be silly to turn back now. Mind made up, he took a firm step forward, resolved to continue on as before, when an unhappy yip and the sound of claws scrabbling on rocks ahead froze him in his tracks. Wulf came barreling back down the path and into view, and didn't stop until he was firmly behind Red, whereupon he proceeded to turn around and growl menacingly from the dubious shelter of Red's knees.

Wolf moved instantly to stand in front of Red, with Raddy in close attendance. The baker felt both grateful for and mildly irritated at their behavior. Contrary lad that he was, he never could quite make up his mind about how to feel in these sorts of situations.

"What is it?" he asked, fairly pleased to note that his voice sounded normal, despite the fact that his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest.

"Hush," Wolf cautioned, glancing back briefly and flapping a hand for silence.

"I can hear it," Raddy muttered. His posture was stiff and intent, ready for trouble. Wolf's mirrored his, though he appeared slightly more at ease than the brown Fae. There was a small clatter as a few rocks were dislodged from the path ahead. Wulf growled quietly. Red held his breath.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Chitter.

Red gasped. Oh, Ironic Overpowers, no. It couldn't be! But as he stared ahead between Raddy and Wolf, his fears were confirmed as barely over twenty pounds of snow-white fluff came a hopping down the path, wriggling its tiny nose.

"It's a mountain rabbit..."

Wolf nodded, eyes wide as he beheld the beast known for tearing unwary travelers limb from limb and then clubbing them to death with long but ridiculously strong ears. "Maybe if we moved back _real_ slow it won't notice us make our escape..." the silver-haired man muttered, gesturing for the baker behind him to start moving.

"Agreed," Raddy acknowledged softly. "I think it's distracted by something over behind that rock."

The mountain rabbit hopped a bit in their direction and they all squeaked in unison (or in Wulf's case, whined pitifully), drawing the attention of the dangerous Leporidae. Now, it is acknowledged that most would laugh at the thought of running away from a cute, innocent-looking little rabbit. But mountains rabbits are no laughing matter. They look like any other rabbit; relatively small, furry (mountain ones tend to have white coats, though), have long ears, and like to hop. The small but substantial difference between mountain rabbits and the garden variety is that the mountain ones are ferocious, man-eating monsters. The species itself was relatively new; they had begun appearing a little over a decade ago, from Wonderland. Speculation held that they were possibly the result of a magic experiment gone horribly wrong. They had spread and multiplied until they'd been forced back into mountainous regions where they had (fortunately) stayed. No one knew the reason why anyone would breed dangerous little bunnies such as these, but there was little to do, except to steer clear of them as much as possible.

The snow bunny reared up and let out a screech, signaling to the three men and the dog that they had better start running for their lives.

Which is what they did.

But before they could go too far, however, a strong, commanding voice called out behind them:

"Stop! Back, _back_, foul creature!"

As one, they paused mid-flight and turned to stare incredulously at the owner of the voice, wondering who in their right mind could be so singularly stupid to imagine that they could cow a _mountain rabbit_ through sheer force of will. Sometimes the feisty buggers would wander down from their mountain nests and into surrounding farmland. When that happened, it took a hunting party of two-dozen men strong, in full suits of armor and equipped with large bludgeoning weapons to take one out. Even with so many men, the rabbit could still get the upper hand and escape with its fluffy bunny tail intact. The chances of success for those twenty-four men were, at best, fifty-fifty.

The chances of success for one man, unarmored, were pretty much nil.

The chances of success for an Elf, on the other hand, were somewhat better. This was fortunate for the owner of the voice, because an Elf happened to be exactly what he was. All elves enjoy a one-ness with nature that even few Fae can lay claim to. While only some fairies are able to commune with wild animals, all elves are able to understand and be understood by animals.

Red could see the rabbit beyond his protective human wall that consisted of both Wolf and Raddy, who remained firmly between him and the danger. It seemed to hesitate, and stared up at the Elf in front of it, wiggling its little pink nose in what Red thought seemed to be an inquisitive manner.

"These are not for you," the Elf said firmly. Red thought he seemed somewhat familiar. "Go back to your nest." Though the voice that spoke the command was polite, it was still a command. The baker watched incredulously as the rabbit blinked, wiggled its nose once more, then turned around and hopped off. The Elf watched it disappear with his hands on his hips. When he appeared satisfied that the rabbit was well and truly gone, he turned about to face his audience.

Raddy was the first to find his voice.

"_Azrael!?"_ he asked, disbelieving.

"Hello, Radamanthus. It's been a while." The Elf beamed. Then he whistled, and a pair of magnificent white stallions with glowing blond manes trotted up behind him. The brown-haired Elf patted one of his horses on the snout affectionately, earning him a snort from the animal. The other horse wished to receive some attention as well and butted his head against his master's back. He laughed and gave the needy equine a hug, looking totally at peace with himself, which, Red thought, was exceedingly unfair, considering what had almost just happened.

"What are you doing up here, Azrael?" the baker demanded, breaking through the human barrier that had kept him shielded. "Shouldn't you be down in Abel?" The Elf laughed

"Well...I opened up my copy of the Book of Because last week--very useful book, despite its general unpleasantness--and I asked it what I should do today and it said, 'Your friends are in trouble. Do something about it, you twit.' And then I asked it where I could find you and it told me 'Go look for them, you stupid tart.' And then I went out looking for you...And here we are...one week later!"

The others just stared at him.

"You mean to tell us...you've been searching for us...for a whole week...just because a book told you to? Why?" Wolf asked, sounding incredibly dumbstruck. As an answer, the Elf pulled out a little red book and flipped through it. On the cover, emblazoned in golden letters, were the words 'The Book of Because'. Stopping at a random page, Azrael read it aloud.

"Because."

Wolf blinked, crossed his arms, and looked like he wanted to say something but then thought better of it. So instead he just shook his head and said nothing.

"I don't suppose you lads will continue allowing me to assist you? Where are you going? I'll be more than happy to come with you," Azrael said after a few moments in which an awkward silence reigned.

"We're going to Icicle Town," Raddy answered. "It seems that Snow White isn't dead after all, but only under a spell."

"She's alive?" Azrael's face lit up with happiness at hearing this news. "Are you certain?"

Raddy cocked his head. If he'd had any visible eyebrows, one of them would most certainly have been raised. "Of course," he responded. Azrael beamed.

"I would love to accompany you! But…" now he seemed uncertain, and glanced over his shoulder at the two horses. "I didn't expect this gentleman…" he indicated Wolf. "I only have mounts for myself and Red…"

"We can double up," Red said instantly, moving to Azrael's side and pointedly not looking at Wolf, who he could tell had been about to suggest the same thing with _him._

"Alright," Azrael agreed easily enough. "But…can your friend ride?"

"It's been a few years," Wolf spoke up, answering the question for Red. "I'm sure I'll remember how."

"Alright," Azrael agreed easily. "Then, I see no reason to delay any further. Shall we be off?"

"Let's go," Red responded, moving over to the larger of the two horses he recognized as Azrael's. His friend boosted him onto the horse's back and hopped up behind him in an easy motion. Wolf moved to the side of the second horse, taking a moment to run his hand along the creature's velvet-smooth neck before vaulting expertly onto its waiting back. Red watched Wolf's movements with a certain amount of awe; the man seemed right at home on the back of the horse, his long, leather-covered legs gripping the white sides tightly, his fingers gathering the reins and arranging them carefully in his strong hands…his lips as he whispered some nonsensical platitude to the unusually placid stallion upon which he sat astride…

His contemplation of the wolfish man was abruptly cut off when Azrael urged his horse into motion and Red's view was cut off.

"If we go at a steady pace," the brunet began, "we will be sure to reach Icicle Town before sundown." The Elf nudged the horse they rode into an easy trot. The animal nickered uneasily, which made the Elf frown somewhat. Red could tell he was carefully looking about for any signs of trouble. He tensed in Azrael's arms, awaiting the older male's verdict.

"What's wrong?" Wolf asked, nudging his horse alongside theirs. The Elf held up a hand to silence any further questioning. His left eye twitched and he kicked his mount's side, going straight off into a mad gallop down the path.

"CUDDLES!"

Wolf blinked. Did he just say 'Cuddles'? But considering that his traveling companions--including that blasted pup, Wulf--were running for their lives again, he thought that he should, too. With a swift kick in the side, his stallion was shortly following behind Azrael's, with Raddy flying alongside, down, down, down towards the kingdom of Saison. He didn't understand why they were running down so fast, especially since they were trying to get away from a creature called 'Cuddles.' Thinking Raddy too busy fleeing via flight, he urged his mount harder until he was riding beside Red and Azrael.

"And why...exactly...are we...running now?" he asked, bouncing a little uncomfortably on his horse. The rocky mountain terrain was not an ideal place to be riding bareback and he was sure that he was going to be more than a little sore when he dismounted later on.

"Cuddles is coming!"

"Who's Cuddles?!"

A roar split the air, shaking the very mountain with its fury.

"_That's_ Cuddles," Red said, wondering if he should give in to temptation and look behind him. In the position he was in it would be nigh impossible to do at any rate, but that did not help the feeling of imminent doom and morbid curiosity creeping up his spine.

"Cuddles is Apple's pet Balrog," Azrael explained. "Usually he stays in the Gates of Beyond, but from time to time he comes round here for a vacation. He doesn't generally attack people, but there's this crazy wizard who's been bothering him a lot recently. I bet that's why he's so agitated right now..."

"Is he following us?" Red asked.

"Don't know, my friend...too busy keeping Astaroth from bucking us off," Azrael replied curtly.

The continued riding at a mad pace as roars sounded off around them, not knowing whether the creature they feared would come for them was near or far away. The Snow Mountains had very good acoustics, letting even the smallest whisper echo for miles in places. Poor Wulf, small as he was, couldn't keep up, and they had to stop for a few precious moments that could have been spent running away. But Red insisted, so the furry animal was scooped up into Raddy's arms and they were off again. But after only a few steps something reared its ugly head. Massive jaws, angry, fiery eyes...a giant body that Wolf was sure could grind them into a messy pulp...

He swallowed nervously.

"Cuddles, I presume?"

As an answer, the monster roared in his face. Phlegm came spewing out from within the jaws of this fabled creature, coating all nearby in its inner slimy fluids. 'Very disgusting' would be an understatement.

Red rubbed the snot from his eyes. "Well…that was charming," he stated, momentarily unafraid for his life.

It was a very brief moment, however, as the severity of the situation took the very next moment to smack him upside the head with an unhealthy whiff of Balrog breath. The creature before them was well over fourteen feet tall, was possessed of a very powerful set of sharp, pointy teeth, and equally sharp, pointy talons. These combined with its ill-humored roars easily lead even the most casual of observers to the conclusion that the best place to be at that moment was precisely where the Balrog was not.

Unfortunately for Red and his companions, they didn't have much choice in the matter.

The Balrog was regarding the lot of them thoughtfully. Red thought it looked hungry. He was just working himself up to being properly terrified for his life when he was distracted by Raddy, who flew right up to the Balrog's face, still clutching Wulf in his arms. The canine was squirming madly trying to escape, but Raddy held it in such a way that even though it managed to nip him several times in its bid for freedom, the fairy wasn't bothered enough by the pain to let go.

"Good idea, Raddy! Feed the dog to it!" Wolf called encouragingly. Red glared over at the leather-clad man, who seemed to be having slight difficulties controlling his mount; not that Azrael was doing much better at the moment, it had to be said. Elvish horse or no elvish horse, when an equine has visual confirmation of an obvious predator the size of the Balrog before them, no amount of training in the world is going to keep it from fidgeting.

"Don't you dare!" Red shouted.

Raddy said nothing in response to either of them. Instead, he flew up slightly higher than the Balrog could stretch at full height, wings beating furiously. Red could see that he was shimmering a bit, like Fae tend to do when they're about to erupt in a shower of sparkles.

"Azrael," Red began to say, but the Elf had already noticed what Raddy was up to and kicked his horse into action, whistling to Wolf's mount to follow.

An explosion of brown, earth-scented sparkles burst into existence in the sky above them. Raddy's dust made contact with the Balrog's curious upturned face. A moment later, just as both horses were leaping into motion, the Balrog sneezed. Red caught a glimpse of Wolf surprised expression when the horse beneath him moved suddenly. Then he couldn't see anything at all but the neck of the horse in front of him, and found himself praying fervently to whatever deity might be listening that Wolf wouldn't fall off his mount and that all of them would get out of this situation somehow with their skins intact.

Azrael's horses were, thankfully, very surefooted despite the rocky mountain terrain, though the one Red was riding was currently somehow managing to go too fast for his comfort considering their surroundings, and not nearly fast enough considering the fiery, carnivorous monstrosity they were fleeing. Red could hear it behind them, each sneeze a veritable explosion. He tried to look around, searching for Wolf, and felt relieved when he saw him still safely astride his horse. His heart gave a little flutter at the sight of Wolf's grim, determined expression as he practically lay flat along the stallion's neck, reins and a hank of mane clenched in each fist, his legs tucked as far around the horse's belly as they could go. Then he sneezed and wiped his eyes, and decided firmly he was going to blame the traitorous tremor of his heart on the presence of so much brown fairy dust.

Azrael's voice cut through the air as a tremor shook the ground. "Astaroth!" The horse whinnied frantically, rearing up as a large boulder landed right in front of it, courtesy of Cuddles the Balrog. The Elf tried to regain control of his mount, but the horse was so spooked it finally cracked under the pressure, its survival instincts kicking in. The horse bucked around, first sliding Azrael clean off of its back and onto the frozen ground. The back of the poor Elf's head connected with a block of ice. That was going to leave a bump, Red noted, still holding on for his life before he, too, was sent flying.

"Red!"

"Azrael!"

------------------

"Why'd you cut off right there?!" Kiwi demanded of Apple, upending the parlor table by accident in her fury. The demon stared at the wasted cakes lying on the ground, a small tear appearing in the corner of her eye as she slowly turned to look at her counterpart with soon-to-be very watery puppy-dog eyes. She sniffled at Kiwi.

"My…my cake…" she whispered meekly, looking shocked and frightened, like she had just been slapped by her mother for spilling cranberry juice on her best pink dress. Not that her mother would ever do such a thing, as Apple didn't really possess a traditional sort of mother, she wasn't too fond of cranberry juice and, even if the world were ending, she'd never be caught dead in _pink_. Being as the two of them had known each for something just shy of eternity, Kiwi wasn't fooled for a bit (although, she was often a pushover most of the time).

She was going to put her foot down.

"There's livening up a dull journey and then there's taking things entirely too far," the angel stated, putting her hands on her hips and glaring. "Why in the world is Cuddles even _over_ in that part of the world? Don't you think those lads have enough to worry about as it is? If you don't get that bloody Balrog under control before it eats someone, I'll..." she paused. When the pause stretched on into full-blown silence, Apple risked saying something.

"You'll...?" she prompted. The angel glared again, and she cowered.

"I'll do something you won't like at all."

"Oh yeah?" the demon responded, recovering some of her courage now that her initial surprise was over.

"Yes." It wasn't a threat; the angel didn't make threats. But she did make promises. And she kept them.

"Like what?" Apple tried. She was pushing her luck at this point, though she didn't quite realize it yet.

Instead of replying, Kiwi raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"Oh. Um. Eh heh," Apple laughed nervously, and looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "I see. Um. Well, I guess I can...haha, get Cuddles to leave them alone..."

"Good," the angel said simply. Then, like nothing had ever happened, she bent down and straightened the table. Seating herself once more, she restored the displaced sweets with a wave of her hand. She watched Apple the entire time, never taking her eyes off the demon for a moment. Apple squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, carefully diverting her gaze downward through the dimensional layers, where she could just make out a small, wizened old man, shuffling in an unhurried fashion down the mountainside...

-------------------

Mani was a wizard. And not just any wizard...he was a great and powerful old sage who could dazzle even the Higher Powers with his great mystical techniques...

...at least, that was what he often told himself.

Mani the Manic, as he was often called, was actually an old man with a dead-end job at the post office, and lived with his ancient mother and three younger sisters. When he was a young lad he had dreamt of becoming a knight of the Kingdom of Abel--possibly one of the Twelve (they being the protectors of the Elf King and princes in their own right)--and spend his life going off to rescue beautiful damsels and fighting valiantly in jousts and tournaments and other knightly activities.

It is an unarguable fact that the reality of the future often does not reflect the fantasies of youth.

Mani failed at attaining his dream because, for one, he lacked the proper physique for a knight whose job description included doing rather dangerous and physically demanding things. Secondly, he was so utterly bonkers (translation: an utter fanboy) his tester had come to the conclusion that he wasn't mentally qualified for taking up tasks any more complicated than fitting a square peg into a hole. And thirdly, he wasn't an Elf, which would have helped him somewhat, because in the old traditions of the Twelve Knights of Abel, one must be of Elf blood to hold the title. So, he had ended up spiraling into depression brought on by his failure, which soon turned into an obsession which had then led him to...well...

...chasing after Cuddles the Balrog for the last sixty or so years. As no Elf so far had ever managed to slay a Balrog, he'd thought that if he could lay waste to one that he could be re-considered for the ranks of knighthood and his dream could finally be realized. Of course, he failed at that too, but was surprisingly resilient as he always came out of every encounter with Cuddles alive and well enough to crawl his way to a healer before coming back for another fight with the monster.

So, considering he had been chasing after his mortal foe for many, many years, he could sense the telltale signs of Cuddles anywhere--especially when he roared. And many bellows from the monster's throat did he hear this day, and so he charged headfirst towards a battle he was most likely going to lose.

"You shall not get past me this time, foul fiend of the deep!" he yelled (for the 100,000,000,000,001st time, the last time the Ironic Overpowers checked).

Red and his companions all heard the cry, and looked toward its source with hope. The voice sounded like one belonging to a strong warrior, one who had trodden on worse things than a Balrog and hardly even noticed. Cuddles looked up at the sound of the cry as well, though not with hope but with resignation, for he recognized that voice too well. Its owner had been a constant thorn in his side for the past sixty years.

Red was not the only one of his friends to let out a disappointed groan when the man from whom the shout had originated hobbled into view.

He was eighty if he was a day, dressed in a tattered, worn, and stained grey robe, and leaning heavily on a knobby staff. He paused at the crest of the rise over which he had appeared, panting slightly, before he straightened up to his full height (5'3") and pointed his staff impressively at the Balrog. Cuddles snorted.

"I have cornered you at last, monstrous demon! Leave these unfortunate travelers alone and face me properly! Ya-HAH!"

Red stared, wide-eyed, moving his gaze back and forth between the old man and the Balrog. The old man was mad, that was clear enough. And the Balrog...? Red was no expert on the facial expressions of Balrogs, but he felt he could _swear_ that this one looked embarrassed.

"Red?" Azrael whispered from where he lay some feet from the baker. Red tore his gaze away from the standoff between man and Balrog to look at his friend. The Elf was in the process of sitting up, and rubbing the back of his head gingerly. When he saw that he had Red's attention, he nodded, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Let us be off," he said quietly, climbing to his feet even as he did so. Red got to his feet as well and followed closely behind Azrael as he edged slowly around the Balrog and towards the down-sloping trail.

Wolf was already there, peering anxiously around a rock outcropping that hid him from immediate view just down the path where Cuddles had cornered them. The look of relief on his face when he spotted them made Red smile somewhat.

"Radamanthus...?" Azrael whispered.

Wolf jerked his head down the path. "He's gone after the horses. Let's get gone ourselves," he said. Azrael nodded. They all flinched when the Balrog chose that moment to roar, though a quick, terrified glance over his shoulder confirmed to Red that the Balrog was no longer concerned with any of them, but with the little old man who was shooting sparks at it from the end of his knobby staff.

He didn't protest when Wolf took him by the hand and tugged him along, pulling him into a run.

Red could have been a marathon runner. He had had a lot of practice running from things over the years, and that practice had paid off. There were few things that he knew of that he could not outrun, at least for a short time. After the running came the hiding, of course, but in a lot of instances he had to run for a long time, so he'd built up endurance. Elves are fairly natural athletes, so he wasn't worried about Azrael. And Wolf...Wolf appeared to be fairly used to running too, which Red supposed was only natural. Wolf seemed like the sort of man who had outrun an angry mob or two in his day.

As the sounds of the Balrog's roars and the old man's cries became somewhat muffled by distance and rock, Wolf went to let go of his hand. Red, perversely, pretended not to notice and readjusted his grip on Wolf's. He was too busy trying to stay upright as he ran to see the look of confusion on Wolf's face.

The three had been running for perhaps three or four minutes before they came upon Raddy and Azrael's horses. Almost as though they had practiced the maneuver before, Wolf slid his hand from Red's grip and picked him up by the waist, tossing him quickly onto the back of Azrael's stallion. Red's breath was knocked out of him, and he stared at Wolf in surprise as the leather-clad man vaulted neatly onto the back of the other horse. Then Azrael was up behind him, and both the horses were moving again, cantering and galloping where they could, spurred on by the continued angry cries of the Balrog.

--------------

"Bathrooms! Buildings! The smell of dog piss! Civilization!"

"Calm down, Red...it's not that great."

The entire group had made a mad run down the rest of the way, not even stopping to water the horses. As such, the poor beasts had been tired out by the time they reached the outskirts of Icicle Town. All the riders had dismounted as the town came into view to give the horses a break from working, and led them along by the reins at a sedated pace for some time before they stopped for a rest a few feet from the road, still a ways out from town. Wulf, glad to be back on the ground and not in the arms of a (crazy, in his eyes) flying man with butterfly wings that smelled of dirt (honestly, don't people _bathe_ anymore?), was running about ahead of and around them, getting literally underfoot. Especially when it pertained to Wolf.

The tall, silver-haired man decided that the mutt really had it in for him, considering the amount of times it had tried to trip him. It finally managed to do so, and Wolf found himself falling face first into the snowy ground with his butt high up in the air in a spectacular face-plant reminiscent of the ones Red had done in the past.

Red found himself uncomplaining of the situation. In fact, he found himself actively enjoying the view, and only realized he was ogling when Azrael nudged him suggestively in the side. He quickly averted his eyes, blushing in embarrassment.

Chuckling in a doggish fashion, the pup pranced away from Wolf towards Red, his mission apparently complete. He circled around the baker's legs, tongue lolling out cutely to the side as he looked up with big, blameless eyes. _Look at that,_ he seemed to be saying. _See how ungraceful and clumsy he is? Now you can stop paying attention to him and pay more attention to me! _What a devious little thing he was.

Wolf climbed to his feet with great dignity, dusted himself off, and glared at the dog. "If you don't watch it, pup, I'm going to skin you and make you into a rug," he growled. Wulf raised his hackles and growled right back. Red tried to smooth things over.

"He's just a puppy," he said. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Wolf turned his gaze from the dog to Red, his mouth open to speak, when he saw that the baker was blushing. He recalled his sprawl, noted that Red was standing in a place that would have given him a prime view of his backside, and put two and two together. He shut his mouth and turned away, so that Red wouldn't see him grin.

"Shall we continue on our way?" Azrael said, smiling softly, amused by the endearing antics of his friend and the silver-haired man.

"Yes, let's," Red said, firmly shoving any and all mental pictures of leather-clad backsides from his mind. "Where's Raddy?"

"I'm here," the brown fairy spoke up, startling Red. "Sorry," he apologized when he saw Red jump. "I was having a look around, and...well, Red, you'd probably better see this." He held a weathered sheet of paper in one hand, and offered it to Red. Curious, Red reached out to take it, but stopped when he saw what was printed on it. He readjusted his motion and used his hands to cover his face and groan instead.

"What is it?" Wolf asked, coming up to the group. When he saw what was on the paper, his eyes widened and he whistled softly in surprise.

"Oh dear," Azrael said. "This might be problematic."

"There's no 'might' about it," Raddy said. "There's one of these on every street corner all over town."

"Ten years...it's been ten sodding years," Red muttered. "Whatever happened to 'forgive and forget'?"

"Apparently it doesn't apply in situations involving...er..." Azrael trailed off, unsure how to tactfully finish his sentence. But the baker could tell what he wanted to say.

"I didn't kill her!" Red all but shouted. To his three companions, he looked to be near tears. He crossed his arms and glared down at the frost-covered dirt beneath his boots. Raddy placed a comforting hand on Red's shoulder and squeezed.

"We know," he said softly. "But now we face a new problem, don't we? How are we to get into town with a bounty on your head?" the fairy asked, pulling the hood of Red's cape up in order to hide the man's face. A little child ran past the group, probably on his way home, but the fairy mainly ignored him in favor of trying to find a way through their new dilemma.

"We could always not go into town," Red suggested, casting the place a nervous glance. Had it not meant so much to his childhood friend that he was present, he would have turned around and backtracked through the mountains and braved the Balrog again rather than going into Icicle Town. "I'm sure we can find someplace else to rest up."

"No...it's cold out here and there's no other place we can go to for miles...Plus...my horses can't go any further..." Azrael looked over his horses with a sad expression, which turned into a put-out pout aimed at the baker, who had to struggle to keep from having some sort of spastic reaction, which made his face twitch unattractively as a result. The pout then transformed into all-out puppy dog eyes that made Red melt and then give in.

He sighed. It seemed he would never win when it came to his friends.

"Fine, fine...alright. How do you propose we get in with me about? Sneak in?" he suggested, crossing his arms and looking anywhere but at Azrael, who was beaming happily at him.

"Hmmm…a disguise might work," Wolf said, leaning up against a nearby tree.

Ah, a disguise. When was the last time he had worn one? Oh, that was right. At the masquerade, a few months ago. Memories, half disdainful, half fond, bubbled up to the surface of the dark-haired man's mind, as he recalled of a night of carefree flirting and dancing, whirling around a room full of masked men and women, with a kind and beautiful stranger...who had turned out to be someone he hadn't particularly liked at the time, but who he sort of respected now...

"What did you have in mind, Wolf?" Red asked, turning to look at the silver-haired man. Wolf seemed to be an expert at disguising himself well, as Red hadn't recognized him either time he'd met up with him while he was dressed as someone else. Then again, that might simply have been because Red was just really not all that observant sometimes. He groaned at himself. Honestly, how had he been fooled by Wolf, who had a five o'clock shadow, wide shoulders, and no hips, wearing a little pink nightgown and a matching pink night cap?

The wolfish man swiped the poster from the muddy fairy, studied it a moment, then gave his object of infatuation a critical once-over. He looked to the poster again and then back at the younger male. "Well, for one...someone's going to need to go into town to buy some foundation make-up so we can cover up your freckles." Red nodded in agreement. Yes, his freckles were rather distinguishing, weren't they? "Next, we might have to stash your cloak somewhere." The baker frowned at this, but conceded that his cheerful little cherry-red cloak could be seen from the next mountain over.

"Anything else?"

"Besides a new wardrobe change? We might just..."

"We might just...?" Red encouraged.

"...We might just have to...cut your hair."

"What!? NO!" Red automatically reached a hand behind his back to clutch at his braid, which was mostly hidden from sight by his cloak. He looked to Raddy and Azrael for support. He couldn't see the Fae's face, as usual, but was not at all reassured by the expression of thoughtfulness on the Elf's.

"He has a point," Azrael said slowly, to Red's mounting horror. "Your hair is unusual enough that it stands out wherever you go...it doesn't help that it's in this picture of you." He indicated the wanted poster Raddy had retrieved. In it a perky, cheerful fifteen-year old Red beamed at the artist, his long braid draped over his shoulder and easily visible.

"I could do something else with it," Red said, somewhat desperately. "I could put it in a ponytail, or wear it down, or..." he turned to Raddy, his last hope of support. The brown fairy avoided his gaze.

"I hate to say it..." he began, and didn't finish. Red could see where this was going.

"No," he said. "No no no no no. I refuse. I won't do it." He crossed his arms and glared directly at Wolf. The silver-haired man shrugged.

"It was just a thought. If you really don't want to--"

Azrael coughed politely, and Wolf blinked, turning his gaze away from Red to the Elf. "Actually...I think I might have to insist. You won't look different enough from this picture otherwise. Anyone with half a head on their shoulders will see you with your long hair and recognize you as the lad in the wanted poster."

Red stared at Azrael, dumbstruck. The Elf was supposed to be his _friend._ His friend wouldn't force him to cut his hair, no matter what the reason. Azrael, seeming to sense his line of thinking, continued, "I don't want to get you thrown into prison, my friend. Please try to think practically."

"Practical? I'll give you practical! I'm taking my basket and my braid and this dog, and I'm going right back up the mountain to take my chances with Cuddles." Suiting actions to words, he hefted his basket and turned sharply on his heel. He had only taken a few steps, however, when Raddy stopped him dead in his tracks with a single syllable.

"Red..." The sound of the fairy's voice was more eloquent than any thousand words. It was the one voice that had defended him against a horde of disbelieving guards and townsfolk ten years before, the one voice that had spoken kindly to him after all the accusations and disbelief, the one voice that had spoken out against the queen when she had decreed Red was to die for his horrible crime...

He didn't hear Raddy come up behind him, but didn't start when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He drew a shaky breath and tried to keep himself from screaming aloud. Raddy squeezed his shoulder, and Red whirled about and threw his arms around his friend's waist, hiding his face in Raddy's shoulder. Raddy in turn wrapped his arms around Red's shoulders and drew him close into a secure embrace.

"I am truly sorry." Raddy's voice was quiet, and Red could hear the regret in his tone. Red said nothing, but squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried not to whimper.

_"Red, your hair is so pretty! You look just like your papa!"_

_"Look how long your hair is! It's so shiny and nice!"_

_"Red, don't ever cut your hair, alright? Keep it nice and long for your momma."_

_"Red! Let Momma brush your hair!"_

Raddy eventually pulled away, and Red was vaguely aware that he and Azrael were making preparations to go into town, but he watched his friends without really seeing them.

_"Red, it's time for your bath! Are you going to let Papa wash your hair tonight?"_

_"Red, did you brush your hair all by yourself? It looks beautiful! But let Papa fix this bit right here, okay?"_

_"Red, your hair..."_

_"I love your hair..."_

_"Red!"_

_"Red!"_

"Red?"

Red blinked and realized he was crying. He sniffled and wiped his eyes hastily, angry with himself for getting so emotional. He looked around. "Where are Raddy and Azrael?"

"They went into town to get you some things," Wolf responded. Red glanced at him. He looked upset. He had a long green ribbon in his hands, which he was twisting nervously.

"And left me alone with you." Wolf winced, and Red immediately regretted his tone, but he didn't apologize. Wolf was the cause of his current predicament, after all. If the man hadn't made such a horrible suggestion, Azrael would never have insisted he cut his hair.

_Probably,_ Red amended. The Elf wasn't stupid. The idea would no doubt have occurred to him sooner or later. Wolf had just had the misfortune to mention it first.

Not that that was going to excuse him.

"Um...I'm supposed to..." Wolf tried after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Red glared at him for a moment to let him know he was _not_ happy with him, then nodded.

"Fine." He turned around and undid the clasp on his cloak, drawing it around off his shoulders. He shivered and bundled it in his arms. He heard Wolf come up behind him, and felt him tug the ribbon out of the end of his plait. When he gently began undoing the braid, Red couldn't resist asking him what he was doing.

"It's a little messy," Wolf said quietly. "Raddy though you might like to keep it, so..." he finished loosing the braid and began running his fingers carefully through the freed locks. Red felt a little of the built-up tension leave his body and he involuntarily relaxed a little as Wolf continued to smooth out his hair. He was very still a few moments later when Wolf began running a comb through it, starting at the very ends, which came down almost to his knees. The last person he had let brush his hair had been his mother...on the morning she'd gone off adventuring for the last time.

Wolf was very careful and patient, and the comb didn't snag once the entire time he was using it. Red allowed his eyes to go unfocused as he concentrated on the gentle sensations against his scalp. Finally, after what felt like entirely too short a time (though he knew that quite a lot of time had actually passed), Wolf began plaiting his hair up once more, tugging it firmly into place and tying it securely at the bottom. The green ribbon Red suspected he'd acquired from Azrael was tied tightly at the top, a few inches down from the nape of his neck.

"Red..." Wolf began, and then trailed off. He sounded unhappy.

"What?" Red asked weakly. He'd meant to snap, but it felt like all his energy had gone.

Wolf sighed. "I'm sorry."

Red was moved by the sincerity of his voice. A moment later, he tried to laugh it off. "It's just hair," he said, managing a fair approximation of his usual brusque tone. "It'll grow back."

Wolf was silent for several moments. "Yeah," he said finally. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. Now are you going to cut it or not?"

Wolf sighed again, then took careful hold of the braid at the base of Red's neck. A moment later Red heard the soft _shhhhh _sound a knife makes when cutting through hair, and a moment after that the weight he had never properly realized was there before now was gone.


	12. Character Development

**CHAPTER 12**

Character Development

Red stared disbelievingly at the mirror that Raddy was holding up for him. With the make-up applied to his face (he'd been the one to apply it, because, let's face facts, Red was probably the most skilled with using it amongst their group) the freckles that often helped people distinguish who he was had disappeared. In fact, with the absence of his freckles, quite a bit of the childishness had gone from his face. The slightly tan tone the Fae and the Elf had picked out all but eliminated his fair skin color that might have otherwise made him seem like the feminine little thing he often pretended to be. And with the haircut…

"I look like a man," Red said, stating the obvious.

"I do believe that was what we were hoping for," the Elf chirped, earning himself a glare from the baker.

"You do realize that from now on nobody's going to believe I'm an innocent little fifteen-year old girl when I do my chores, right?" Red asked heatedly. He had calmed down considerably now that he had gotten over the hair issue somewhat, moving from near hysterical depression to tightly-controlled anger. One could tell that the dark-haired man was getting over things by how angry he was right afterwards, and he was pretty angry at the moment.

Azrael took on a thoughtful look as he considered this.

"Oh…I'm afraid I forgot to take that into account," he said slowly. Red's left eye twitched. Azrael smiled. "Ah, well. It'll grow back to its original length."

"Yeah, it'll grow back alright…" Red agreed calmly, crossing his arms and nodding. And then he burst into a loud roar that could have made a mountain rabbit shudder. "…in about twenty bloody years!"

"Now, now, Red…look on the bright side…you look fetching in those clothes," the Elf said, grinning from ear to pointy ear. The baker gave him a disdainful look.

"I look like a pirate," he deadpanned, plucking at the sleeve of his new shirt morosely.

"A _handsome_ pirate," Azrael corrected, taking in the garments that he and Raddy had forced their friend into once they'd gotten back and presented them to him. It had been a rough struggle, but with their superior strength and height, they had overpowered the younger man and stuffed him into the outfit he now wore. Red thought that various pieces would have been fine on their own, but combined together they created one hell of an ensemble.

Azrael had found a spare red bandana tucked away in one of his bags (from a tournament he'd won last spring, according to him, that involved balls called 'pigskins' and many men all dressed up in full body armor tackling each other to the ground—he didn't remember how he'd acquired it, but he did remember blacking out several times), and had tied it around Red's messily cut hair. He noted that though it did look sort of nice the way it was layered from just above Red's jaw line, somebody was going to have to touch it up somewhat. Perhaps that seamstress friend of Red's could do it. He had looked for other red articles for the baker to wear, because the man looked so good in the color, but had seen none at all in the town, which he found somewhat strange.

Together Raddy and Azrael had acquired a new white shirt, proper black pants, a few belts (the pants were a bit loose and the shirt was somewhat long) and a nice black vest with white, spiral embroidery along the trim. And a proper pair of boots, too, because they were quite adamant that no sensible man would be caught dead in the little 'booties' that the baker liked to wear around. Lastly, a heavy, dark brown wool coat to keep off the chill, because he sure as heck couldn't continue to wear his distinguishing red cloak. But the dark-haired man had insisted that he be allowed to keep his usual gloves, and they had let him, seeing as they were innocuous enough.

All in all, Red looked surprisingly masculine at the moment as he studied himself for the third time since his 'transformation'.

_I look like my father_.

"Well, now that that's all settled, shall we head into town? I reserved us a suite at the Icicle Hotel. If we go now we'll be just in time for dinner!" Azrael said after a few moments.

"I guess," Red said, scratching his neck uncomfortably. Even with the high collar of his new shirt, the back of his neck felt naked.

"Excellent! Away we go, then!"

And so Red and his companions started off once more, eager for the warmth of the indoors and the food promised by the Elf. Red was uncomfortably aware of the absence of his braid, and kept reaching up to touch the shorn ends of his hair. He was also aware that he was being watched by a certain pair of amber eyes, though whenever he glared in Wolf's direction (which was frequently, as he was not at _all_ happy with the man at the moment), Wolf did a very convincing impression of someone who was very interested in the road just ahead of him.

The road they traveled along lead them quickly into town, where Red soon became uncomfortably aware of a very different sort of regard. Everywhere he glanced, it seemed like the townsfolk were glaring at him, whispering behind their hands to one another. He divided his attention on the cobbled road beneath his new boots and the interesting architecture of the buildings that lined the streets.

Most of the houses and shops had two floors, though occasionally there was one with only one floor, or three. They were all built of brick done over with smooth, cream-colored stucco, and accented by dark brown beams that reinforced the corners, roofs, and sometimes the walls of the upper floors. There seemed to be an abundance of window boxes, but unfortunately the climes of the region were rather unforgiving to decorative flora, and so many of the boxes were filled with useful herbs and what green things would grow in icy soil.

"There's the hotel, just across the square there," Azrael said, pointing to a very large, very fancy building. Red gulped slightly. From what he could see of the outside, the establishment looked to be one of those places that charged its guests for the mints on their pillows, and could get away with it because its guests were so ridiculously wealthy that they expected it.

"It looks very…nice," Wolf said. Red glanced at him. He seemed somewhat ill at ease. Before he could wonder as to why, though, he was distracted by a shout from across the square, and two burley, very angry-looking city guards running towards them.

"Halt! Halt in the name of the law, you red-wearing rascal!" one of them yelled. Red furrowed his brows and looked at his friends. Had his disguise not worked after all? The other guard came up, holding a threatening halberd to Red's neck.

"You, sir, are in violation of one of this kingdom's most strictest of strictly strict laws," the man with the halberd said, a bit redundantly.

"And which one would that be?" Raddy asked, moving forward to stand defensively next to Red. The man in armor gawked at the Fae, as if he had a foot growing out of his head. He soon regained his composure, looking somewhat disgruntled at being asked such a question. He looked to his fellow guardsman, who launched into what Red and his friends could tell was an overused explanation of the aforementioned strictest of strictly strict laws.

"Which one? Which one? Why it's one of the most important of all: Red clothing has been banned from the Kingdom of Saison….excluding the eastern portion, of course, but nobody really goes there," the city guard explained, waving an irritable hand. "The point is….we are the Red Watch!"

Red raised an eyebrow. "The who?" he inquired, just as Raddy groaned.

"Oh, I had forgotten about you," the brown fairy muttered darkly from behind his wooden mask. His tone was somewhat embarrassed and more than a little annoyed. His companions looked at him, hoping for some sort of enlightenment, and he sighed and explained. Apparently, the Red Watch was a group of armed men sent out by the Queen herself with the intent to enforce the 'no red' law throughout her kingdom. Anyone found wearing red clothing would be sent straight to jail.

Red frowned at this. _Lovely_, he thought. If he wasn't being charged with high treason, he was being charged for simply wearing his family's trademark color. _Lovely. Just bloody lovely_.

He was startled when someone tugged the bandanna from his head. Jerking around, he blinked at Wolf, who was meticulously picking out the knot that had secured the scrap of fabric.

"I'm afraid that simply removing it won't help," one of the guards said. "He was wearing it, blatantly, right in the middle of the city in the middle of the day! The law requires that—" he was cut off when Wolf shook out the bandanna with a loud SNAP. He then folded it in half and lifted it to his face, whereupon he proceeded to loudly blow his nose. Red stared, slightly disgusted, as he then folded it in half once more and shoved it into the back pocket of his trousers.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Wolf said, raising an eyebrow at the guard and sniffing. "I was blowing my nose. You said you're arresting our friend here," he indicated Red with a wave of his hand, "for wearing a red article of clothing? That's funny, because I don't see any red on him at all. Do you?" he turned to Raddy. The brown Fae hesitated for the merest instant before he shook his head.

"Nope. Lots of black and white and some brown, but no red. Azrael?"

The Elf shook his head gravely. "I certainly don't see what they're talking about," he said.

"He was _wearing_ it!" the guard exclaimed, glaring in annoyance at the lot of them.

"Wearing what? My handkerchief?" Wolf asked, sounding incredulous. "I don't know why he'd be wearing something like that; I blow my nose with that."

"The law—"

"Doesn't include handkerchiefs," Raddy interrupted firmly. "I don't know what you thought you saw, but it certainly wasn't our friend bedecked in a bit of red. He can't stand the color, you know."

"But—" the guard was puffing up his chest in indignation. Azrael cut him off.

"Let me put it like this," he said, stepping closer to the guards. Red heard the clink of coins, and a moment later the two men were all politeness and smiles.

"Sorry to have bothered you, sir," the first one said, bowing slightly to Azrael.

"We were mistaken. I do hope it didn't put you to too much trouble," the second chimed in, also bowing.

"Not at all. Please carry on," Azrael said with a smile. The two guards turned and wandered unhurriedly away, satisfied with a job well done. "Well!" the Elf continued, turning around to look at his companions, a cheerful smile on his face. "That was interesting!"

"I'm sorry about the bandanna, Azrael," Wolf said. "I'll wash it..."

"It's quite alright, under the circumstances. And, um...don't worry about it. You can keep it," the Elf assured him. "Now, shall we finish our journey...?"

And so Red and his three companions finished crossing the square and entered the hotel without any further incident

-------------

Snow Castle was quiet and virtually empty; it was cold and in disrepair. The broken stained glass windows were wide open, letting the winter drafts into the hallowed halls, covering spots on the carpeted floor with ice and snow. No one lived here anymore, or willingly entered the tall, intimidating structure at all—not even the soldiers still loyal to the throne, whose barracks had been moved to Icicle Town. All had abandoned the place, except for the Queen who, rumor told, wandered the corridors grandly and talking to a magic mirror that hung on her bedroom wall.

The mirror had been a gift to her from her first husband, a man she had loved at one time, and still held a great deal of fondness for, but who she had come to recognize was not the best father for their son. It had been enchanted heavily to answer not only the truth, but to show her images of various things: For example, where her foes were currently residing within the town not so far away.

The Queen touched the rippling image of young Red in his new disguise, talking mutely to his comrades within a hotel. She smiled sweetly, a small, dark chuckle escaping her lips.

"So...the boy has finally returned," she remarked quietly to no one.

"Yes," the mirror replied, regardless of whether the statement had been directed towards it or not.

The Queen nodded slowly, beginning to move away, disinterested with the image that was soon to fade away from the body of the large floor-length mirror. Normally, the woman would simply watch the mirror and wander aimlessly through her beautiful solitude, but now she feared that that would soon be disturbed if she didn't do something about it. There could be only one reason why Red Reaper would choose to come back to Saison when there was a bounty on his head, and knowing the boy, he would succeed if she did not interfere in some manner.

So it was that Queen Helen du Trois put on her finest fur coat and sat herself down upon the royal sleigh, to which four white horses were hitched, and began her journey towards the kingdom's capital.

-----------

"Alright….first order of business…Red, you need to pick a name."

"What?" Red blinked in surprise at Wolf.

Azrael smiled adorably at his friend's confused face. Once settled into their lush hotel room the four of them thought that a meeting to sort things out would be prudent to reviving the slumbering Snow White. They had just started after a few rounds of idle small-talk, and were finally getting down to business.

"Another lovely point, Sir Wolf," the Elf noted with an acknowledging nod of his head. He turned his blue gaze to Red, all smiles and sunshine daisies. "As seen, it'd be best if none of us—particularly you—get into any trouble with the local authorities until we've sorted this whole mess with Snow White out and she gives you a full pardon—"

"That's not bloody likely," Red interrupted bleakly.

"—and we can go on with our lives," Azrael finished with a pointed look. "And since Saison can't seem to stand the color red in most of its forms, it would probably be prudent to call you by another name, as Sir Wolf suggested…"

Red groaned quietly. This was turning out to be way more complicated than even he'd imagined. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror across the way and gave a start, unused to seeing a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, and who also looked remarkably like his father, reflected back at him. He stared into the mirror for several moments before he realized his friends were waiting for him to speak. Well, why not? He looked like the man, might as well...

"Call me Jack," he said, unable to prevent a faint smile from twitching at his lips.

"Jack?" Raddy repeated. He sounded surprised. Red looked at him and nodded.

"Jack," he confirmed. "Jack Inlaw the Red-handed."

"The 'Red-handed'?" this time it was Wolf who echoed him in an incredulous tone.

"Perhaps we'd best leave that last bit off," Azrael said. Then he smiled at Red. "But that's a good name. It's very..."

"Pirate-y?" Red suggested, his voice tinged with a smidge of irony.

Azrael snorted in amusement. "You're not letting that go, are you?"

Red gestured at the mirror. The young man that was his reflection gestured back. "I just call it like I see it," he said with a shrug. "And now that we've got that out of the way, is there anything else you think I ought to modify about myself before we _finally_ get around to uncursing Snow?"

"I think we've done quite enough," Wolf broke in before Azrael could respond. He was looking hard at the Elf, not quite glaring, but clearly daring Azrael to contradict him. Azrael did not seem inclined to do so, smiling innocently as he was wont to doing.

"The changes we've made should be sufficient," he said pleasantly. "And of course we should proceed to our plans for helping Snow. Radamanthus, you seem to be the best informed of all of us..." he trailed off, turning to look at Raddy, who nodded and cleared his throat. Wulf, who had, thus far been quietly lying down in a corner, perked up in slight interest. The pup got up from his spot, stretched a bit, and then moved so that he was seated right next to Red. The baker reached down and absently scratched the dog behind his ears.

"Well, some time ago, I was approached by a strange gentleman who told me that our lady Snow White was not struck dead by poison, but somehow cursed into a deep slumber," the muddy fairy began to explain, floating up higher into the air as he did so. He paced--well, floated--the floor, one hand under his chin, the other supporting the elbow of the other hand. His wings fluttered uneasily on his back as he moved until Azrael made him settle down into a chair.

"We know that part already, my friend...Now please tell us how we can bring Snow back," the Elf said, crossing his arms as he waited patiently for the solution to their problem.

Raddy looked at the floor.

"We have to find Snow's True Love...only his kiss can break the spell she's under," he told the others.

A brief silence settled over the room.

Then Red groaned, covering his face with his hands, bemoaning the fact that he always seemed to be pairing people off; Wolf smirked a bit, thinking about the time he'd had to kiss Red awake (not that he had known his kiss would have broken Wicked's curse) back in Tempus. Azrael just blinked.

"That's all?" he asked in surprise. He also looked somewhat disappointed. "You mean we can't go around, questing throughout the entire countryside looking for some obscure artifact that can only be found by following riddle-esque clues left behind by wizened old men who once worshipped the great God of Underpants, randomly walking into people's houses for no apparent reason, taking their things without asking, all in the slim hope that it could cure our friend, only to find out that we must fight some fiendish overlord in order to even activate said artifact?"

"I personally find Raddy's solution preferable to the one you just suggested, Azrael," Red stated, looking hard at the Elf. "It sounds like it would be a lot less bothersome."

Azrael pouted cutely. "But I _like_ adventuring!" he said, sounding forlorn.

"There aren't even any fiendish overlords in this part of the world anymore," Wolf pointed out. Azrael looked positively disappointed, his long ears drooping as his last hope for wild adventure was shot down. Then he perked up briefly as he remembered something.

"What about that Loosestrife fellow--?" he began to say, but Wolf cut him off.

"He got married and retired over thirty years ago."

"But—"

"We don't need to drag any evil overlords, retired or not, into this," Red interrupted. He glanced at Wolf curiously. He'd heard rumors that the evil overlord Wolfgang Loosestrife had settled down long ago and started a family, but Wolf seemed to take those rumors for fact, he sounded so certain…

"That's right," Raddy said, picking up the thread where Red had left off. "We just need to find Snow White's True Love. Once he kisses her, the spell will break, and then we can all go back to our normal lives."

"But where are we going to find her True Love?" Wolf asked, leaning back in his chair and relaxing slightly now that the topic of former evil overlords seemed to have been thoroughly squashed.

"Maybe a contest?" Red suggested. Wulf licked his hand and whined, and he realized he'd been neglecting his ear-scratching duties. He started up again. "We can announce that we're seeking a strong, heroic man to break the dreadful curse of the beautiful princess? Hero-types tend to flock to those sorts of rumors."

"That might work," Raddy said, nodding slowly. "I wouldn't feel comfortable unless we were monitoring it somehow…I don't want just _anyone_ going up to Snow and kissing her…" Red thought his friend's voice sounded odd, but he couldn't see Raddy's face, as always, so he wondered if he was just imagining it. Raddy tried to stand up to resume his nervous pacing, but Azrael made him sit once more.

"That does sound like a good plan, Red," Azrael admitted, if somewhat grudgingly. He was still disappointed that there was to be no questing. Why don't we work out the details, then? Afterwards, we can go to the Blessed Garden and visit Snow White." His blue eyes flicked to the room's large window. Outside, he could see an orange haze creeping through the clouds. "Or perhaps we should go tomorrow, as it's getting somewhat late," he said, amending his last suggestion.

"That's a sensible enough idea," Wolf said, yawning into his hand. His namesake gave a doggy yawn on the floor in agreement. It had been one busy and long day for all of them, what with all the fleeing from Balrogs, mountain rabbits, and crazy old men in grey robes--not to mention the brush with the law they'd had a little while ago. It would be best for the group's chances of succeeding in their endeavor if they were well-rested for whatever insanity would come their way next.

Raddy felt that he'd like to visit the princess as soon as possible, but conceded that being exhausted would not help her in the least. "Yes, let's work out the details then..."

Red smiled, already forming an idea as to how they could go about this contest.

"Alright...first off, we can do this to get word of mouth spreading..."

The four planned well into the evening, over a dinner of fine, hot rabbit stew (that nobody seemed to be able to eat once they found out what it was) and into the night. They couldn't come to agreements over certain things, mainly about the criteria in which they were to judge the heroes come to call. Did they have to be handsome? Some argued that he had to be, others said they shouldn't be so picky as long as they did what they were supposed to do. Should they critique personality? Fighting skill? Achievements? Singing? There were many things that the group went over until they were near tired of having to argue over it.

In the end, it was decided that Raddy, Red, and Wolf would be the ones to judge who could be Snow's possible True Love. Raddy and Red because they were the princess' friends and they knew the girl's personality enough to try and find a match. Wolf was picked, because he wasn't an acquaintance of the girl's, nor knew much about her in general. They needed one judge who wouldn't be biased against any particular person. Azrael would be keeping track of who came in and who left, as well as playing security. The Elf may not look it, but he could toss a fully grown man across a room with one hand.

It was late when the four men adjourned to their separate rooms within the suite. Wulf curled up happily at the foot of Red's bed. The baker was grateful for the company, though he felt his thoughts drifting to the similarly-named man who was taking his own rest on the other side of the wall. Red frowned at the direction of his thoughts and punched his pillow a few times to fluff it, hoping to distract himself. But once he'd settled down, there was nothing to keep his mind from drifting back to the amber-eyed man next door.

Fortunately for him, he fell asleep soon after, though he was still half-irritated and half-confused by the direction of his traitorous thoughts.

-----------------

_They were sitting on a bed together, face to face. His hands were holding onto the hem of the older man's green t-shirt. Nearby was a little table with a bucket of some sort situated upon it. There was also a brush; it must have been for the white, generic walls around them. What type of paint was it? Who was going to do the painting? Did he really care? In one quick moment he pulled the shirt off and marveled at the hard muscles running underneath his caressing hand. Wolf smirked at him. _

"Do you like what you see?" he asked seductively, running his hands along Red's bare arms in soothing motions. The baker looked up at him, captivated by the gaze staring intently at him as he was gently pushed back into the mattress.

"My...what big eyes you have..." the dark-haired man whispered as Wolf slowly undressed him.

"All the better to see you with, my bonnie lad."

Hands moved all around his torso as the older male straddled him, keeping Red down with all of his weight. He shivered as pleasure ran through the length of his body and a moan escaped his lips.

"My...what big hands you have..." Red remarked as the other man massaged and caressed him.

"All the better to pleasure you, my bonnie lad." The voice came as a soft, feral growl. It was a sound that should have frightened him, but it managed to arouse him even more than Wolf's wonderful ministrations did. Red hissed as something hot and wet was pressed against the hollow of his neck and he soon found out that it was the silver-haired man's tongue pressing heated circles into his skin. He titled his head a little, to give Wolf further access to even more skin, which he happily kissed, bit, and licked.

"And m-my..." Red breathed out, almost gasping. "...what a large...tongue you have."

Wolf's dark chuckle filled his ears and made him shiver with anticipation.

"All the better to lick you clean of chocolate, my love..."

Lick him clean of chocolate? Ah, so that was what that bucket of paint was for. It must be filled to the brim with sultry, melted, warm, liquid chocolate. The thought of being covered in the stuff and then licked clean was very enticing, but, somehow, the baker felt it was unfair that Wolf got all the fun. As he pondered this as the older man was having his naughty way with him, he began to feel somewhat playful and a little...aggressive? Red rubbed Wolf's bare thighs (when had he removed those leather pants?) softly, his only warning before he found a strength he normally did not possess to flip them over so that he could be on top and the taller man--gasping in surprise--on the bottom.

He straddled Wolf's hips, smiling triumphantly. Holding a finger up, he tauntingly wagged it at him. The weight of Red pressing against Wolf's hips was distracting, but that wagging finger was absolutely tempting. Propping himself up on his forearms, Wolf caught the finger between his teeth, smiling at Red. He gently sucked on it, eagerly anticipating the other's reaction.

"Tell me, Red," he purred, bathing the digit with his tongue. "What are you going to do with me now?"

Instead of answering, Red pressed his lips against his cheek, beginning to kiss and nip slowly downwards as he drew his finger away from the other man's mouth. With every new inch of skin he explored below Wolf's collar, he felt that something was missing and grinned to himself for forgetting before.

Oh, well. At least one of them was going to be covered in chocolate.

He pressed Wolf as firmly down as he could as his attention was laid upon the bucket of melted chocolate just begging to be used. Shifting a bit so he had more room to work, he picked up the brush from the bucket and began to draw little chocolate tattoos onto his lover's body, starting from his Adam's apple, down his chest to his navel, upon his thighs...

When he was satisfied, he deposited the paintbrush back into its bucket and left it forgotten on the nearby nightstand. The dark-haired man smiled devilishly as he held onto Wolf's shoulders in order to keep him still as well as to gain a bit of leverage. He soon lowered his lips and began to 'devour' the wolfish man, starting from the top., Wolf enjoyed every minute of it. The silver-haired man growled at the back of his throat, showing he appreciated everything the baker was doing, not doubting Red's ability to use his tongue to clean the milky, smooth confection from his body.

_The feeling of the warm chocolate over Wolf's skin was incredible..._

Red stirred restlessly in his sleep as the dream faded, leaving behind only impressions of intimacy and the faint memory of chocolate as he drifted into a deeper sleep...

--------------

"She's...gone."

The next morning had dawned crystal clear, if chilly. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground. Red and his companions had woken early, breakfasted, and begun the journey to the Blessed Garden where Snow White had been laid to rest in her glass coffin, as chill and cold as the frost surrounding her.

The four men stood in silence for some time after Raddy's statement, staring at the stone dais in the center of the Garden that had formerly been the resting place of the princess in her coffin.

"But...who could have done this?" Azrael finally asked, confusion plain in his voice. "The townsfolk will be most upset when they discover she's gone missing," he added.

"I don't care _who_ did it! _Where is she!?_" Raddy sounded more angry and upset than Red had ever heard him before. It upset Wulf, who had been trailing after the group as he was wont to doing now, sending the dog to hide behind Red's legs, whimpering. No one answered him immediately. Then Red finally spoke up.

"We'll know when we find her," he said, trying to reassure his friend and calm him down. "We'll just have to look for her, is all." He could see Raddy was still tense with rage, staring at the stone dais as though he could return the sleeping princess back to her proper place through mere force of will. Red touched his shoulder briefly. "It's not so bad. I'm good at finding missing princesses," he said. _And then poisoning them...or stabbing them with cursed spindles,_ he thought immediately after, and winced.

Raddy seemed somewhat calmed by his assurances, however, and turned resolutely away from the empty dais. "You're right," he said. Taking a deep breath, he turned his masked face to look first at Red, then to Azrael, then finally to Wolf. "We should split up and search for her," he continued. "I'll search the surrounding forest. Azrael, perhaps you can make inquiries with the local nobility...?" the Elf nodded his head gracefully. "And Red," Raddy hesitated. "You'd probably better stick with Wolf."

"What!? Why!?" Red demanded, firmly not looking at Wolf. Raddy seemed to glance around, as if checking for possible eavesdroppers. Then he said quietly, "You of all of us is most likely to get arrested...if that happens, it will be best if someone knows right away, and can find and inform myself and Azrael."

"I'm wearing this ridiculous outfit," Red argued, "make-up, and _you made me cut my __**hair**_," he practically hissed the last few words, his voice filled with barely contained anger. "And you _still_ think I'm going to be recognized!?"

"There is always the possibility," Azrael spoke up when Raddy lapsed into guilty silence. "Please Red," he continued. "We're worried enough about Snow. Don't make us worry about you too."

Red crossed his arms and glared at the ground. When he raised no further objection, his friends took that as assent.

"We'll meet back at the hotel at noon to discuss what we've found," Raddy said. Azrael and Wolf nodded. Then the brown Fae leapt into the air, his wings moving so quickly the were a mere muddy blur. They watched him fly off in the direction of the nearby forest until he was out of sight.

"I shall take my leave as well, then," Azrael said once they could no longer see the fairy. "Best of luck, my friends. I'll see you back at the hotel." And with a smile and a nod, he turned on his heel and strode briskly off.

There was silence between Red and Wolf for some minutes after. Red finally chanced a glance at Wolf, and saw the man was watching him with an unhappy expression. Red quickly dropped his gaze. When Wolf looked at him like that, he somehow felt like he had just kicked a puppy. Wulf, who _was _a puppy, came out from hiding. The dog looked curiously between the two men, wondering at this sudden calm and silence.

"Well, come on then," the baker said curtly, beginning to move away from the dais. He didn't cover too much ground, however, as he found that something was latching onto his wrist. That something happened to be Wolf's hand, and it was so gloriously warm against his skin. He stared at it a moment, letting the older man get away with holding him like this before tugging away from his grasp--and not particularly succeeding.

"Wolf, I know that the others wanted you to keep an eye on me, but I'm not a bloody child. Let go." The dark-haired man pulled insistently, but to no avail. Though it was gentle, Wolf's hold on him was very firm. Finding he had no choice, but to look into Wolf's eyes to prove his point with a heated glare and a quick shake of his arm. The expression he saw was almost enough to throw him. The silver-haired man's amber eyes had always been an interesting sight to him, as they were rare as far as humans went--even when crossbred with another species--and right now, they were regarding him with an emotion that seemed somewhat foreign to them, something that Red had never imagined to see in them.

Or maybe he had just never noticed before?

At first Red felt like a cat who had just had a bad scare, its hackles raised high. But as he stared into those eyes, he felt himself calming down, and didn't resist when Wolf pulled him closer.

"Red?" Wolf asked softly.

"Yes?" Red answered, slightly breathless as the other man raised a hand to caress his cheek. His _make-up-caked cheek_, he reminded himself, suddenly feeling irritated all over again. The other man must have realized this, as his hand dropped down to hold up the baker's small chin instead.

"You know that I'm sorry, right?"

"What's there sorry to be about?"

"Red..." There was an edge to Wolf's voice; a hard one. The man's voice was low as he uttered his name and it made him shiver somewhat to hear it spoken so...so..._enticingly_. He was almost weak in his knees.

"Let me make it up to you," the man said, leaning closer to Red.

"Oh, really...How?" Red asked, tilting his head up a bit as he put a hand to Wolf's chest. They stared at one another for a quiet moment and Wulf, forgotten in this moment by the two adult humans, began pacing back and forth, glaring a puppy-dog glare at the tall man, close to growling as he smelt the beginnings of a mating ritual. He looked about. What could he do?

Wolf let go of Red's hand, moving his own up so that it could cradle the back of the baker's head. Smiling, he leaned in to kiss the younger man before he could say or do something to ruin the moment. Wulf began jumping about.

"Like s--Augh! You filthy _bugger_! Get _off _of me, you rotten _mutt_!" Wolf flailed about angrily and in pain as his attention was pulled away by the beast that was trying to chew off his ponytail. Wulf growled deep in his throat, not letting go for the world. It had taken him quite a few tries, but he had managed to jump high enough to catch the human's strange head tail.

Wolf managed to remove the dog from his hair, and shoved it violently away from him, glaring all the while. Wulf raised his hackles and snarled, growling. Red watched the two, wide-eyed. He found he was having a hard time catching his breath. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for the puppy's interruption or irritated by it. His face felt flushed and his stomach was doing funny things; he was somewhat surprised a moment later when he worked out that he _was_ feeling irritation at the interruption. He was surprised again when in the next instant Wolf whirled from his glaring contest with Wulf, grabbed Red's hand, and began walking out of the Garden, tugging Red along behind. It took him a moment to remember how to work his legs properly, so he stumbled a bit at first, but was soon walking beside Wolf, hand in hand.

As he had the day before once he was certain Red was following him on his own, Wolf tried to let go of Red's hand. Just as he had the previous day, Red pretended not to notice and tightened his grip. His heart was beating somewhat erratically, and he blushed crimson when he glanced up at Wolf and saw the man's wondering, happy expression. Wulf followed behind them, nipping in irritation at Wolf's heels. He subsided for a while when Red chastised him, but was soon once more making his displeasure at the silver-haired man's presence known.

The trio walked more or less in silence all the way back to the hotel. Red glanced curiously at Wolf, but the man didn't seem to notice; his attention had mostly been focused the entire time on the dog at his heels, and making sure that it didn't bite him. The silver-haired man lead the baker and the dog all the way back to the suite Azrael had reserved. Red wondered what was going through the man's mind, but found out a moment later when he opened the door, picked the growling puppy up by the scruff of his neck, and tossed him inside, slamming the door firmly closed after. Intensely put out at this turn of events, Wulf made his displeasure known by barking and whining and scratching frantically at the door.

"Is it alright if we just leave him there?" Red asked as he followed Wolf back down the stairs into the lobby.

"Better than having him chew me into pieces whenever I look at you." Wolf said with some heat. He approached the front desk and had a few words with the man working there. Then he returned to Red, and the two of them walked out into the street. "They'll send a maid up to look after him in an hour or so," Wolf said. "He seemed to like Hannah alright. I think he's one of those annoying mutts that only likes women," he paused. "And you," he added after a moment. Red nodded. Now that he'd been reassured about Wulf, he found himself hoping that maybe the two of them could reestablish the moment they'd shared in the Blessed Garden, but Wolf seemed to be all business now. "Let's get started looking, shall we?"

Red tried not to look disappointed as he nodded in agreement.

As Red and Wolf went out into the town proper to investigate the whereabouts of the missing body of Snow White, a maid arrived within the hour at the suite as promised. She hummed as she went through her apron pockets to find the keys to the door. She was sure she could hear the scratch, scratch of claws and the pathetic whines of a young husky. Taking her sweet time (and not checking the numbered labels), she went through every single key on the large iron ring she had until she found the correct one for the suite. Tucking longish black hair behind an ear, she opened the door.

"Awoo?" came the questioning sound of the pup left behind. He stared at the person bedecked in the frilly black and white maid's outfit before sniffing experimentally. Once he caught a whiff of the stranger's scent (which was a mixture of brimstone, ash, and burnt cookies), his tongue came out of his mouth excitedly as he wagged his tail in utter delight. He barked as he pranced around, avoiding questing arms that would most definitely hold him in a wonderfully painful, yet joyful embrace.

It was his _master_.

"Hello, Wulf...my, you sure are causing a lot of trouble down here," the woman said, closing the door quietly behind her. She crouched down and reached out a hand to scratch him right underneath his chin. She laughed as the dog began to drool a little, probably experiencing bliss. "Can't I leave you alone for one second?"

He barked something inquisitive.

She smiled and sat on the floor, letting Wulf crawl into her lap. Her hand moved to roam across his back, soothing him as she lovingly stroked it with feather soft caresses. He growled something under his breath, and shifted a bit in her lap to get more comfortable.

"Well, no, he's more like the great grandson of a bitch, but I suppose I know what you mean by that, Wulf." She unceremoniously whacked her dog in the head, scowling at him. He jumped out of her lap, surprised. He growled at her for this unfair treatment as she gazed back, looking just as angry. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. "That's what you get for getting in between Red and Wolf!"

He barked madly at her.

"No! No! Bad dog! Behave! Not gay doggy sex for you!" Wulf did not listen to her, as he continued with his howling and barking. She sighed.

"Hellhounds….can't live with them, can't rule the world without them…" she muttered to herself, putting a hand to her forehead. As a headache began to form, she gave an exasperated groan and stomped her foot. "Shut up or I'm getting you _fixed_."

Wulf stopped mid bark.

The puppy whimpered as he put his tail between his legs, falling to the floor in what one could consider a very cute pose. But since _she_ was the owner of this hellish dog she was not easily fooled by his seemingly innocent appearance. Just look at _her_; she didn't even work at the hotel and yet when she had walked in, the manager had immediately sent her up to take care of Wulf.

She smirked. "Good boy. Now…listen closely if you want to get back at Wolf for throwing you in here, my sweet, affectionate little darling…" The dog raised his head off the floor, cocking it to the side as he regarded her with wide, curious eyes. She shrugged at her dog. Well, she _was_ here. She might as well sow a little mischief before going back home.

Meanwhile, as a girl and her dog were plotting vengeance against a certain leather-clad, silver-haired man, said aforementioned man sneezed in the middle of a conversation with an old man pushing around a cart full of shoes.

"Are you alright, Wolf?" Red asked, looking concerned for him. Was the cold affecting him? Looking the man up and down, he wondered if the leather coat was warm enough for the harsh, frozen climate of Saison. He didn't even have a scarf to wrap around his neck. He was sure to catch a cold without the proper winter gear...

The older man was tempted to use the bandana in his pocket to blow his nose, but thought better of it. Wouldn't want to cause a panic by flashing a bit of red around, after all. Sniffling, he went back to talking to the peddler about what he had seen the other night during his travels.

"Yes, yes..." the little old man crooned, stroking his beard. "Saw something large, being as I was passing by the Blessed Garden...Monsters have a habit of roaming at night, you know, and Saison hasn't had an end of them--not since the first queen went mad." The peddler shook his bald head, looking quite sad. Red was surprised.

"Monsters?" he repeated, wanting to make quite sure that the old man wasn't senile or pulling his leg.

"Yes, monsters...big old brutes...probably not too smart...Don't know what they were carrying off, really--but I know they must have gone through the Spring Fields." The old man made a vague gesture in some direction, but neither man needed to be pointed in the direction of _that_ place. Everyone knew that the grass was much greener in the eastern part of Saison, and many people from the west often flocked towards the fields and the lands beyond in the hopes of finding a better (and hopefully warmer) life.

"Thank you, sir," Wolf said with an inclination of his head. The old man waved them off.

"Not a problem...not a problem..." he said, before going off and pushing his shoe cart along. Both Red and Wolf watched as he went off until they could no longer see him, standing side by side. Red looked up at his companion.

"Well…it's a lead," he said, at length. The older man agreed with an absentminded nod, pulling out a pocket watch the baker had never seen before. It was silver, polished, and looked very, very, very, _very_ expensive. It was a piece of sophistication Red wouldn't have linked with the person standing next to him.

And then it was gone, having served its purpose. Inquisitive brown eyes trailed back up away from the leather-clad man's sides until they met with pleased amber ones paired up with a soft smirk.

"Good thing, too. We've been at this for hours—it's almost noon. And to think…we've eavesdropped on twenty little old biddies, gossiped with a bunch of school kids, and talked to about oh….half a dozen 'wizened old men'?" Wolf chuckled. "And we've only managed one good solid lead." He began to walk back in the direction of their hotel, savoring the thought of getting something to eat after a hard day's work; yet in the back of his mind, he had a feeling he would be greeted with something other than food…

"It was only last night…I'm sure they couldn't have gone _too_ far," Red pointed out, following the other male.

"Yes…perhaps…But your friend Raddy might want to go and secure her, just in case…who knows what might happen along the way…"

"I guess…" Red allowed. "But we won't really know what to do until we hear what Raddy and Azrael have been up to."

"That's true enough," Wolf agreed easily. Red glanced at him; he was looking ahead, watching where he was going. The baker surreptitiously studied the man's profile, something he'd only really done once before, over ten years ago when they had first met in the Sleeping Forest and Wolf had offered to keep him company on his way to his grandmothers…It was a very nice profile. He'd thought so then, too. Strong, clean jaw-line (though dotted with stubble, as usual), high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose…

"Um…Wolf?" Red hadn't known he was going to say anything until the words came out of his mouth, seemingly of their own accord. Wolf glanced down at him, curious.

"Yes?"

"Um…" Now he really had no idea what to say. He looked away, blushing. "Nothing."

"Alright," Wolf said agreeably enough. The pair then lapsed into silence, in which Red squirmed uncomfortably. He had no idea what he wanted to say or do. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to Wolf, have a real conversation, about anything at all, and he couldn't for the life of him think of anything to discuss. He looked somewhat desperately around the street they were walking along. Then something caught his eye, and he couldn't help the words that came a moment later.

"Well…that's awkward."

"What is?" Wolf asked, glancing curiously at Red.

"That." Red nodded his head in the direction of the young couple he had noticed standing together a little way down the street.

The two that the baker had pointed out were obviously inexperienced as they sloppily kissed one another, hands groping onto just about anything. The man was somewhat disgusted, although he did stare longer than was probably good for him. At the back of his mind, as the two were mindlessly snogging nearby, Red wondered if he had ever acted in such a manner before. He was sure he had never kissed anyone like that (the few times that he managed it, at any rate).

"That is the worst try at a kiss I've ever seen," the dark-haired man remarked.

"You're no prize yourself."

Red blinked, then glared heatedly at Wolf, who looked down at him with a smug smirk.

"What did you say?" Red asked, grinding his teeth. The awkwardness that had fallen upon him totally dissipated as his anger took over once again. He would have slapped Wolf for saying such a thing, but he had made it a point not to do any physical harm to the silver-haired man _every_ time he got annoyed. So, he merely huffed and whirled around on his heel. Wolf's words stopped him from taking another step further, his voice somewhat mocking.

"I mean...after all...how many times have you been kissed? I distinctly remember stealing your first all those years ago..." The man crossed his arms and recalled the beginning of his decade-long obsession, quietly satisfied with how the younger male slowly turned around so he could give him a furious stare. He was privately somewhat amazed that he hadn't been slapped yet, and a bit of hope began fluttering about in his chest as he realized this. _Red was holding back._ "But don't worry...I can teach you." Before the baker could say anything, he quickly grabbed the man's wrist and pulled him close to his body, wrapping an arm tightly around the other's waist.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing? Let go!" Red yelled, squirming.

"Not until you've learned your lesson," Wolf said in a low voice, leaning down to nip Red's neck. The unexpected love bite both shocked and subdued the smaller man somewhat. He was too startled to do anything, as his mind tried to register what had just happened. With his free hand, Wolf tilted the younger man's chin up so that they could be eye to eye with one another as Wolf told him what was what.

"First off, my bonnie lad...you start off light. Like this." He lightly pressed his lips against Red's, pulling back a little so that they were only an inch apart from one another. "And then you start to play around...just enough to make your partner want more from you..." The silver-haired man caught the other male's lower lip, sucking and nibbling on it gently. As he alternated between a bit of playing and tasting the other's lips, his hands moved accordingly. He adjusted his grasp around Red's waist and moved the baker's arms so that they were around his neck, so that the smaller man could gain a bit of leverage as they kissed.

Wolf pulled away again to speak and was amused and pleased to hear a small whimper of disappointment escape the dark-haired man's lips. He noted that Red was becoming a bit flushed, despite the amount of make-up on his face. Chuckling, he placed another quick kiss upon the corner of Red's rather eager mouth.

"And do you know what comes next?" he asked coyly.

"No...what?" Red asked uncertainly, doubt beginning to cloud his brown eyes as his common sense struggled to return to him. Wolf would not let him get away this time. Who knew when he would next have a chance like this? And so, without saying anything, he swooped down just as Red was about to speak, capturing pink lips in the deepest kiss they had shared in the years they had known one another.

It was hot. Very hot. Perhaps the weather was affecting their bodies or something else was at work, but neither men felt the cold air around them as they held on tightly, sharing a moment. Wolf's tongue was everywhere; it memorized every part of Red's mouth, moving slowly compared to the rushed, passionate kiss they had shared in his grandmother's cottage nearly eleven years ago. Red could taste vague traces of strawberries, a fond memory of that morning's breakfast. He idly wondered in the back of his mind if he'd ever be able to eat strawberries again without remembering this moment.

It was a kiss that could have gone straight into eternity and could have been too short once it ended. The baker's knees had been turned to jelly by this time, leaving him leaning heavily on Wolf for support. Dazed brown eyes met up with smoldering amber ones...and a smile that spoke of contentment.

"And that's how you kiss someone properly," he said. Sighing blissfully, Wolf released him and turned about to continue on his way towards the hotel, not even looking back to see if Red was following him. Red, bereft of his support, sank wobbly-legged to sit on the ground.

Red stared at his retreating back for some time, trying to catch his breath and calm down. When the man disappeared around a corner, he realized that he was sitting on his behind in the middle of the frozen walkway right in the center of town. He got clumsily to his feet, and felt some of the pleasant sensation Wolf had created within him slide away under a surge of irritation at the unresponsiveness of his knees. He took a few stumbling steps forward, and by the time he caught up with Wolf, he had worked himself up into a good, righteous indignation. He was going to give the man a piece of his mind, see if he didn't!

Wolf glanced at him and smiled so happily, however, that all of the things he'd been thinking to say flew right out of his mind. He contented himself with glaring as best as he could manage and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket before refusing to look at Wolf any further. He stubbornly didn't want to give Wolf the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to him, even though Red realized he _did_ know; he'd collapsed in the snow once Wolf had stopped supporting him, after all. But he was going to pretend he hadn't, and vehemently deny any suggestion to that effect.

Wolf, for his part, didn't seem inclined to say anything to him, regarding their impromptu kissing lesson or otherwise. So the two men walked back to the hotel together in silence, one content, the other confused, annoyed, embarrassed, and trying very hard not to admit to himself how nice it had been.


	13. NotSoDivine Intervention ::edit::

**CHAPTER 13**

Not-So-Divine Intervention

There are three very certain things in the life of a villain.

One: Do disreputable things to earn a bad name and a cult following of giant spiders, goblins, evil creatures, and generic soldiers (even if said 'disreputable things' simply involve buying milk from the closest market with a few spider guards tagging along).

Two: Live your life in fear of wandering, overly-righteous heroes bent on stopping you because of whatever fiendish plot you are currently engaging in at the moment (once again, reiterating the story involving the milk).

Three: You don't get a 'happily ever after'.

The Wicked Fairy, known by his parents since birth as simply 'Carabosse', had never really been a traditional villain. For one, he wore a dress (no matter how much his father would argue with his colleagues until he was blue in the face that it was a _robe_). A very sexy, slinky dress with a scandalous back and a strapless top, in fact. He was just as likely to _hit_ on the male heroes that came to his Castle of Half-Evil looking for glory and honor as he was to curse them. And, at one point in time, he had even been a family man.

_Some family man_, he thought bitterly to himself as he sat slumped in his throne room, his chin resting on a hand. Tapping the fingers of his other hand idly on the armrest, he stared at nothing in particular. The near-silence of the vaulted chamber was starting to grate on his nerves. There was also a leak in the ceiling where he had a random swamp installed on the floor above, so not only did he have to listen to the annoying drops of liquid hitting the floor, he also had to deal with the wretched stench wafting from the ground. He didn't bother cleaning it up, though.

The castle in which he lived was far from empty, though he was sitting alone. There were, he was sure, about six dozen giant spiders roaming about, and about half of them expecting already, from what he'd heard, so there would be probably over a billion new huge arachnids under his service soon--if the females didn't eat their young first. Also, a whole horde of goblins were having a retirement party in the dungeons for one of their fellows. In all likelihood, creating a right mess down there...

As far as being empty went, Half-Evil was near full capacity. No, what was making him feel worrisome and restless was not any sense of loneliness.

Standing up, he descended the dais on which his throne sat and trekked towards his private chambers, slamming open doors along the way to fill out the quiet with sound. Once arrived in his chamber, he approached his floor-length mirror, studying his reflection intently. He reached up a hand and touched his hair.

His problems had begun here.

It had all started when he had been forced to cut his hair in order to escape from his own throne, so he could search for the missing body of one Little Red Riding Hood, who had slipped out of his manicured clutches yet _again_. After fruitlessly looking around (not that he had really tried too hard, he had to admit), he began to wonder why he was bothering chasing after the young man at all. True, he was adorable, but there were many others out there who were more than willing to give themselves to him. Perhaps, he thought, he missed the feistiness of his beautiful ex-wife.

She had been a wicked woman (wicked as in 'incredible'). Intelligent, strong-willed, and beautiful beyond words. Most importantly, she had loved him with all of her might. Of course, since he was such a terrible family man (and not a very good man in general, as his vocation wasn't the kind one's in-laws generally approve of), life couldn't stay perfect forever--especially after the birth of their son. They had often gotten into fights about him, mostly about the problems he brought home with him, until they'd both decided that it would be better if they divorced--if only for their baby's sake. The two had departed on rather sad terms and never seen each other again.

Well, _physically_ they'd never seen each other again. There was more than one way to interpret 'seeing' someone. He was quite sure that he had seen his wife at least once per year via his enchanted mirror, one of two he had made to look into distant places. What he saw whenever he decided to gaze into the looking glass was the same thing every time. She would be seated grandly upon a throne, looking over the court as she was meant to. His wife had always had a very regal quality to her, and he was happy for her that her re-marriage had raised her to the status of 'queen'.

As he thought about it, it occurred to him that he hadn't 'checked in' with her for quite some time; it had probably been at least a year, perhaps more. He reached up and placed his forefinger upon the glass of the mirror, gently caressing the smooth, cold surface.

"Show me..." he whispered, and his reflection faded and her image appeared. Wicked blinked, cocked his head, and furrowed his brow. Something was...odd. Conjuring a chair, he seated himself, flaring his purple wings briefly as he settled in. When he was comfortable, he set his attention firmly upon the mirror, intending to watch until he figured out what was wrong.

-----------------

"Ah, there you are," Azrael remarked cheerfully as Red and Wolf entered the suite. He and Raddy were seated at the round table in the center of the suite's main room, upon which was set a great variety of covered dishes. "Come, sit, have some lunch. We can talk as we eat."

Red moved to do as his friend said, carefully not looking at Wolf. He had only just managed to get his blush under control, and he knew that if he caught even a glimpse of the man's amber eyes, he'd be as red as his cloak. When they were both settled, Azrael gleefully uncovered the waiting dishes, revealing a variety of delicious-looking food.

"Did you find anything out?" Raddy asked as Red began piling different appetizing morsels onto his plate. Wolf answered for them both.

"Only one odd rumor; an old man told us he saw a handful of monsters moving something large around near the Blessed Garden last night."

"Did he say in what direction they were heading?" Raddy practically demanded, leaning forward and staring intently at Wolf from behind his mask.

"Towards the Spring Fields, wasn't it?" Wolf glanced to Red for confirmation. The baker nodded vigorously, keeping his gaze on his plate.

Raddy leaned back and sighed. "Is that all?" he asked.

Wolf nodded. "Yes...sorry. No one else seems to have noticed anything unusual at all. What about you, Azrael, how did your search go?"

The Elf shook his head. "It was a no-go. None of the nobles I talked to knew anything...Though one of the servants I spoke with claims he saw the queen yesterday."

"The queen?" Red was sufficiently horrified to raise his eyes from his food and enter the conversation.

"Is that unusual?" Wolf asked, curious.

"The queen is never seen anymore," Raddy said softly. "She lives by herself in Snow Castle...who she keeps for servants, or if she even has any, is unknown. She sees no visitors, hosts no guests..." he trailed off.

"Oh," Wolf said. He looked like he was going to ask something else, but noted the tense way Raddy held his shoulders, and so bit his tongue. It was silent for a moment. Then Wolf swore and jerked his leg viciously beneath the table. There was a muffled yelp, and Wulf scurried from his hiding spot and took refuge beside Red. He put his head in the baker's lap and whined pitifully. _Did you see that? He kicked me! For no good reason!_ he seemed to be saying. His blue eyes and expression were utterly pathetic.

"The bloody dog _bit_ me!" Wolf growled, leaning down to inspect his trouser leg for teeth marks.

Red ignored them both and concentrated on his food. When it appeared that no sympathy whatsoever was forthcoming from the baker, Wulf lowered his head and slunk under Red's seat, curling up into a little furry comma.

"The little one seems to really have it in for you," Azrael noted, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused.

"Dunno what I did to deserve it," Wolf muttered. From beneath Red's chair, Wulf growled softly. Azrael laughed.

"You should tell them your news as well, Radamanthus," the Elf said, turning the conversation back to the original topic.

"Oh. Yes. I didn't find Snow, but I did find her friends." Red glanced up sharply and stared at Raddy as he continued. "I told them that Snow had gone missing. They eventually agreed to help us look for her."

"Eventually?" Wolf raised an eyebrow. If they were her friends as the Fae had said, wouldn't they automatically want to do so?

"They had to argue amongst themselves first...they always do, it's their nature," Raddy explained.

"Er...what did they say?" Red asked cautiously.

"They don't blame you for what happened," Raddy responded immediately, sensing the baker's true question. "Avund has enough sense at least to know who's really to blame for Snow's...condition, and the others are wise enough at least to believe him."

Red's shoulders dropped in relief. "Oh," he said softly, reassured.

Lunch continued on quietly with very little interruption or conversation after that. Afterwards, when their bellies were full, it was agreed that Wolf and Red return to searching for clues, while Raddy would go and investigate the Spring Fields. Azrael volunteered to stay in the hotel room, in case any of them returned with news before the others. Wulf was to stay in with the Elf, and he sulked under Red's bed when the baker insisted that he stay behind this time round.

Red still found it rather hard to face Wolf as they walked the streets of Icicle Town, listening in on conversations and dropping by shops and stalls to ask if anyone had seen anything suspicious (when they did this, they mostly got answers of 'You!' with accusing fingers pointed at their faces). They did this for several hours. Eventually, the sun began to set and the sky started to change color. They were both quite chilly by this time, the warm repast of the afternoon having long faded to a pleasant memory. Finding absolutely nothing new, they decided to head back to the hotel room for some well deserved rest. Fortunately for the baker-in-disguise, he and his companion in leather did not pass by any more inexperienced couples publicly showing affection for one another on the way, and there was nothing to prompt another kissing lesson (although, he secretly admitted to himself that he wouldn't mind being tutored in the art of kissing one more time by Wolf's skillful tongue).

But not talking and trying to avoid contact was just as awkward as remembering the kiss (in a nice, sort of pleasant way, one part of his treacherous brain told him--loudly and repeatedly). Wolf must think that he was absolutely nuts...

Red scowled. What did he care if Wolf thought him odd? He hadn't cared in the past what the man thought of him, why should he care now, especially since he suspected Wolf already knew everything about him, warts and all. It was surprising that he didn't know about his cursing of Snow White--it had only happened a couple of months after the pie incident at his grandmother's house. It had been big news for a while--for at least a year before it had died down...

"Hey...er...Jack?" Wolf asked, looking straight ahead, hands in his jacket pockets. Red did not respond to the name; he didn't pay any attention to him at all until he called his 'name' a fifth time and reached out to poke the freckles on the smaller man's cheeks.

"Huh? What? Hey! Stop that!" The silver-haired man chuckled as the baker blushed a faint pink and swatted his prodding finger away from his face. On a whim, he reached out and pulled him close by the waist, causing the blush to deepen.

"Wolf!" Red hissed, doing his best to push away. He failed.

"You know...Jack--" It felt odd to call the petite man that. "--you've been avoiding me all afternoon."

"Avoiding you? I'm right here, you twit!"

"You know what I mean..." Wolf said smoothly, holding onto Red firmly lest he squirm his way out of his grip. A hand snaked around to the back of the baker's head, tilting it up so that he looked into Wolf's eyes; his other hand was place securely on the small of Red's back. Their faces were barely an inch apart in this position as the silver-haired man studied the person in his grasp. "...Did our earlier...'lesson' upset you? If so...maybe..."

The baker-turned-pirate gulped. One did not have to possess great intellect to know what the older man had in mind and Red shivered in anticipation (and a bit of manic terror) at the thought. He did not protest (although a part of his mind was screaming at him to) as Wolf leaned down to--

"Thief! Thief!"

They broke apart as two men ran past them in single file. Wolf pressed up against the face of the nearby shop-front. Red, abruptly released from Wolf's supporting arms, fell much less gracefully to the snowy ground. One man stumbled over Red and fell headlong to the ground, dropping a brown bundle he'd been carrying and somehow managing to bring his partner down with him.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" Red shouted, trying to hide with anger the fact that Wolf had badly flustered him as he scrambled to his feet.

"Watch where ye're goin' yerself, ye great—" the man who had tripped over Red got to his own feet and turned to glare at Red. His insult was abruptly cut off when he caught sight of the dark-haired man's face. He stood, gaping, as his friend regained his own feet with a muffled curse.

"Bloody hell," the second man muttered, staring at Red much as his friend was.

"What?" Red demanded, drawing himself up to his full height, which was rather a bit shorter than either of the two men who were goggling at him, and glaring. "Do you have a problem? Is there something on my face?"

"It's Jack Inlaw," the first one muttered. Red noted with some interest that he was shaking slightly.

"Bloody hell," the second one said again. "Back from the grave to wreak his vengeance..." he gulped audibly, and the two men exchanged a glance, before turning around and fleeing.

"Uh..." Red commented intelligently as he watched their quickly retreating figures turn a corner. He became aware that Wolf was at his back, and realized had been during the entire brief confrontation.

"Back from the grave?" Wolf repeated as he stepped around Red to pick up the bundle the two men had left behind in their hurry to flee.

"Don't let him eat my braaaaain!" was the faint response, shouted from a fair distance away.

"I guess I'm a zombie?" Red hazarded, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"Nonsense." A voice behind Red caused him to jump. He whirled around to regard a rugged man in his late thirties, who had come up behind him. His sandy hair stuck out from beneath a black woolen cap, and he was dressed in the uniform of the city guard. He regarded both Red and Wolf pleasantly if a bit suspiciously as he panted slightly for breath. "Zombies only come out after nightfall, not before. Everyone knows that," he said.

"This must be yours," Wolf spoke up over Red, who'd begun to sputter, whether to demand an explanation or to give one, he wasn't sure. He handed the guard the bundle, and the man took it gratefully. He gave it a brief examination, and nodded to Wolf.

"My thanks," he said. He looked from Wolf to Red, then back to Wolf, and seemed to consider something briefly before speaking again. "If you don't mind my asking..."

"We're in town visiting a friend," Wolf said before the guard could complete what he was about to say. Red glanced at him, and realized that the scruffy, leather-clad man was probably used to these sorts of situations. He regarded Wolf with some surprise, noting his relaxed stance and his amiable expression. He blinked and for a brief moment saw once again the very handsome, clean-shaven man who had wanted to dance with him at Hannah's wedding. A glance at the guard confirmed the man saw something similar, and that he seemed puzzled by the contrast between Wolf's personality and his appearance. But he seemed willing enough to accept Wolf's explanation.

"Just out of curiosity," Red spoke up almost before he thought. The guard turned to look at him curiously. "We've um...something of ours has been stolen," he said, only lying slightly. "We think it was taken late last night...it's very important to us," he added. "Have you seen anything odd around here recently?"

The guard shook his head. "I'm afraid I only actually just got into town early this morning," he confessed. "I was out crossing the Spring Fields on my way here last night."

"But that's where we think it's been taken!" Red exclaimed, seized by a sudden surge of excitement. "It's rather...large," he said. "Bulky. But it was taken nonetheless, and we've heard rumors that some odd things were seen out there last night..." he trailed off, looking at the guard hopefully.

He cocked his head. "Bulky and large? Like...so?" he sketched an approximation of the length of Snow's coffin in the air.

"Yes!" Red said, really excited now. "You've seen it?"

"I don't know for sure," the man said slowly. "I saw something odd over by the Dwarf Mines on my way in. It looked like some folks were taking something in. Which, now that I think about it, is strange, because usually folks are taking things _out_ of the mines, not putting things _in._"

"That might be it!" Red clapped his hands in excitement, turning to look at Wolf with a grin. "We have to tell Raddy!"

"Um, if you don't mind my asking, lads, what is it that was taken?" the guardsman asked, curiosity written plainly on his face.

Red froze. "Uh..."

"Funny as it may sound, our bed's gone missing," Wolf said, draping a casual arm around Red's shoulder. "It's a late wedding present from our friend, who we're visiting, and he wanted us to come out and have a look at it before he shipped it home to us, to make certain it would suit us." Wolf tugged Red closer, cuddling him close. "It did," he continued in answer to the guardsman's unspoken question. The guard grinned.

"Wolf!" Red exclaimed, face flaming. He tried to shove Wolf away, but the attempt was feeble, even for him. Wolf just snugged him closer.

"I see," the guardsman said. "Have you filed a report with the city watch? The lads down at the guardhouse would be more than happy to help you—" he was interrupted by a joyful shout from behind.

"Harry!"

A moment later he was struggling to retain his balance as he was glomped from behind by an energetic redheaded man, who was talking a mile a minute, even as he clung to the guard's back.

"What took you so long? I was worried! You said you'd be back by four, and it's already half past five! Did everything go alright? How's your mother? Is Lily well? How's Peach coming along with her foal? What was the weather like? Did you bring me anything?" As he spoke he slid off Harry's back and came to stand around in front of him.

Harry grinned and proffered the bundle. The other man made a happy noise and immediately began undoing the ties. He bared the contents enough so that he could see what was inside, though neither Red nor Wolf caught a glimpse. Then he threw himself against Harry and wrapped his arms around the man's neck, kissing him passionately on the mouth.

There was nothing awkward about _that_ kiss, Red reflected, almost in awe as he watched the two men enviously. The two were completely absorbed in each other, and didn't notice when he and Wolf slipped quietly away to resume their journey back to the hotel.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," Wolf stated when he and Red made it back to the suite. It was empty (save for Wulf who was curled up in the corner of the room, sleeping) and utterly devoid of the Elf that should have been there. The silver-haired man spotted a note on the parlor table and read that Azrael had been contacted by some friends and would be back soon. He looked behind him at Red, whose cheeks were slightly flushed due to the bitter cold outside and from running away. He was sure that, under the foundation the man wore to hide his freckles, the shade was much deeper. "Zombie pirate? I don't think I've ever heard that one before."

Red laughed a little himself, thinking the idea just as ridiculous and hard to let go of as he imagined a skinny, decaying body with several missing organs and brittle hair that was falling out of its rotten skull; it would be dressed in overly dramatic pirate garb and demand to eat his brains in a wobbly, strained sort of voice, dulled from disuse and a ruined voice box. He continued to imagine it tripping and falling and then flailing about on the floor (Kiwi only knew why he was imagining such a scene after almost being caught again--must be the adrenaline rush) saying in classical fashion, 'Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!' When he imagined an eye that kept popping out of its socket, Red was sent into a fit of laughter that did not go unnoticed by Wolf, who smiled at the sound of the baker's good humor.

"You have a nice laugh," he said, hoping he wouldn't ruin the moment and possibly earn a slap in the bargain. Red just looked at him, his make-up slightly smudged from the tears of laughter, but a wide grin on his usually imminent-doom-expecting face. Wolf couldn't help but smirk back.

"Yeah, well...it's not every day you run into your dad's old gang and scare them senseless," was the baker-made-pirate's reply. This offhand statement piqued Wolf's curiosity, as he knew absolutely nothing about the other man's parents or family life other than he had a crazy old biddy for a grandmother, a talking skeleton for a godmother and, apparently, an Uncle Gustav he'd never had the pleasure to meet--which was fine, because he wasn't too keen on introducing Red to his family--or lack thereof--in exchange. Although his mother was the sweetest, gentlest person on the planet, his father...

Smiling wistfully he placed a hand on top of Red's head and ruffled his hair affectionately, surprising the younger man, who looked at him as if he had a giant worm sticking out on the side of his head. The gesture, he realized, was rather foreign compared to everything else he had ever done to the baker. Then again, it might have to do with the fact that Red was probably remembering that he had cut his long, beautiful hair, and Wolf predicted that the adorably confused expression he wore would soon turn into a very angry countenance indeed. Steeling himself, but not removing his hand, he made a remark.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

Red opened his mouth to say something, paused, and closed it again. Then he surprised Wolf completely by smiling and nodding in agreement. "Yeah," he said. "I guess I am." His heart began to beat somewhat harder than usual when Wolf smiled at him. _He's really good-looking_, Red thought. Wolf's hand dropped from Red's head to his shoulder, and he leaned down, bringing their faces closer together. Red closed his eyes and raised himself on his tip-toes almost imperceptibly. If Wolf wanted to kiss him again...well...

"SON OF A BITCH!" Wolf yelled. This was followed immediately by a dull thump, an injured yelp, and then copious amounts of growling. Red opened his eyes to witness a very strange scene: Wulf, clearly suffering from a good swift kick, was bearing his teeth and growling at Wolf, who wore a similar expression and was growling right back.

"Um," Red wasn't sure what to say, or even if he should say anything at all. The moment was gone, and he was feeling more frustrated and confused than ever.

"Did you see that? That mutt bit me!" Wolf yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the animal snarling at him. When Red turned his brown gaze towards little Wulf, the puppy was all innocence and large blue eyes, his tail tucked between his legs in a submissive gesture as he did a sort of puppy pout. He whimpered pathetically, laying his head on the floor and covering his eyes with his paws.

"I don't know...he seems sorry to me," Red said, much to Wolf's chagrin. The silver-haired man just threw up his arms, giving up for once in his life concerning his dear baker, and went to bed.

"It's only early evening," said baker stated, looking out the window.

"Shut up and let me bemoan my fate in peace." Wolf flopped down on his bed and rolled over so that his back was to the room.

"Whatever you say, Wolf."

And, for once, Red was the one left in amusement as he watched the other man express his woe melodramatically. The Husky scampered over towards him, intent on recieving attention that the young man didn't feel like giving at the moment. When it was clear that Red would not be petting him or scratching him behind the ears or rubbing his belly, he, too, went to sulk for a while in his corner of the room. The dark-haired man just rolled his eyes at the both of them.

Then, on a whim, Red went over to Wolf's bedside and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing off to use the bathroom, leaving the older man stunned on the bed. He sat up and stared at the locked door of the bathroom for a few moments before laughing quietly to himself. His amber eyes glanced around the room, a smirk firmly in place on his lips, until they landed on Wulf.

Wulf lifted his head and stared at him.

Wolf stared back. Then grinned widely.

"In your _face_," he mocked.

Instead of rising to the bait, Wulf just turned away from the man who was competing for the attention of the pretty human he wanted. It didn't matter to the dog what happened now, but what would happen later...which couldn't come soon enough for the furry little creature.

--------------------

A cold, empty corridor laid with a fresh layer of snow; rooms piling up with years' worth of dust; shattered glass and splintered wood...portraits ripped to shreds and furnishings in all sorts of conditions, none of them good. Snow Castle had been desolate from the moment Princess Snow had left the world of the living, poisoned by one many had considered to be her best friend. But there seemed to be something lacking in the old structure—even more so than usual.

Wicked had been keeping the mirror in his chambers trained on Snow Castle for a while now, both intrigued and horrified by what he was seeing.

Helen, the current dowager queen of Saison and the purple fairy's ex-wife, was not as she had once been: splendid, magnificent, fascinating and utterly, completely captivating--oh, _why_ had they divorced? They had been such a wonderful couple--the envy of everyone around them. Everything had been perfect until their son had been born...

No, that wasn't fair to the child. Despite his occupation, habits and general personality, Wicked did care for his son--what father didn't? Alright, so he had been a bit of a deadbeat dad, but he had been so young (if one considered being 475 years old-ish young) when the boy had been born and he really should have known better than to fall for a human, if only to think about the child...

But Wicked rarely, if ever, thought about his actions, much less considered their possible results. Like all the Fae he often gave in to whimsy and did things on the fly as they struck him. He had been well-struck by Helen du Trois' beauty and incredible wit. She had been the loveliest woman to walk the land and, somehow, she had picked him above everyone else. And they'd had a fine time.

Alas, things were different now.

Much different, considering what he saw in his enchanted mirror. And, right now, nothing disturbed him more than the lack of Helen in Snow Castle.

Where could she have gone off to?

"Show me," he ordered the mirror, and it complied.

Wicked knocked over his chair as he abruptly stood up, staring at the image within, violet eyes so wide they were nearly falling out of their sockets. There was a pain in his chest that he couldn't quite explain and he frantically shook his head in disbelief.

"Helen..."

-----------------

The Icicle Hotel was well known for its exemplary service, extra adorable and pretty maids (and exceedingly handsome bellhops for the ladies or men who liked men) and, of course, the unluckiest room in the world: Room 3. Usually one would think that the room labeled as Number Thirteen in a hotel (or any establishment for that matter) would be full of misfortune, but in this fine and fancy building it had always been Room 3. Not Room 4 and never Room 2, unless when one was talking about Room 3 right next to it. Nobody would even consider poor, unloved Room 5, which was a sort of bastard child of Room 2 and 3.

At any rate, the employees were used to all sort of unfortunate mishaps happening in that room, ranging from accidents in the bath to murders most foul involving pantyhose and sparkling champagne. So nobody batted an eye when they heard loud screaming coming from behind the door at about seven in the morning. What did surprise them, somewhat, was the strong language being used during said screaming. All the maids and even some of the gentlemen blushed upon hearing a few of the choicer words.

The scene inside the suite was as chaotic as one might expect from the shouting within. A dog pranced happily and unconcernedly about as the originator of the shouts was prevented from throttling the life out of it by his three companions.

"THAT BLOODY WASTE OF SKIN _PISSED_ IN MY _BOOTS!_" Wolf shouted. "I'LL HAVE HIS MANGY _HIDE_ FOR A _DOORMAT!_"

Red could see Raddy and Azrael wince from the volume of Wolf's shout, their sensitive ears unused to such abuse.

"He's just a puppy," Azrael tried to reason.

"Clearly hasn't been house-broken," Raddy added.

Red was just grateful that Raddy was on height with Wolf and that Azrael was so strong; he wouldn't have been able to prevent the silver-haired man from carrying through with his threats otherwise.

"Just a puppy my _foot!_" Wolf fumed. "If he was "just" a puppy, he'd've pissed _on_ my boots, not _in_ them!"

Red had to admit, Wolf had a point. "Look, Wolf, it's not a big deal. I'll buy you some new boots. Why don't you take a shower?"

Wolf paused in his angry ranting to think about this. Red could practically see him weighing the pros and cons of his offer. After a moment, he stopped resisting Raddy and Azrael, and the two sagged somewhat in relief.

"And please don't kill Wulf while I'm out," Red added as an afterthought. Wolf shot one last glare at the self-satisfied puppy, who was smiling a happy puppy smile at the four men, and nodded grudgingly. Shaking off the remnants of Raddy's and Azrael's grip, the silver-haired man walked with remarkable self-control across the room to the bathroom, leaving damp, yellow, barefoot prints on the cream-colored carpet as he went.

Once the bathroom door was firmly closed, Red and his two friends let out a collective sigh.

"He's quite strong, your paramour," Azrael commented.

"He is NOT my--" Red began to say automatically, but stopped when he saw the delighted grin on Azrael's face. So instead of rising to the bait, he sniffed daintily and turned to Raddy, blatantly ignoring the Elf. "Come shopping with me, Raddy," he said. "Azrael can stay here and make sure Wulf isn't skinned alive."

"Alright," the brown fairy agreed easily.

Red picked up Wolf's ruined boots and winced when they sloshed. But he had to have _something_ to give to the shoe-maker for size...

Once outside, Red carefully tipped Wulf's leavings out of the boots into the gutter. Then hooking the slightly-damp laces over his finger, he nodded at Raddy and they both set off.

The shoe-maker was quickly located. As luck had it, the man was working on a pair of boots similar in both style and size to the ruined pair Red carried with him, and a bargain was quickly struck. After being told to come back in an hour, Red and Raddy returned to the streets, which were just beginning to bustle with the activity of the day. Without any sort of spoken acknowledgment, the two friends began to wander up the street, peering in shop windows and sometimes going in when the whim struck them.

It was in one such shop where something green and woolly caught Red's eye. He reached up a hand to brush his fingers against a hand-knit muffler. Something about the green and grey striped scarf made him think of Wolf, and how inappropriately attired for the weather he was, in nothing but his green t-shirt and leather coat. Not only that, but his shirt didn't even cover him completely! He always had a little stripe of midriff showing, baring hips and navel for the world to see...

...Though right now he probably wasn't wearing anything at all, if he was still in the shower...

Red shook his head forcefully, trying to rid that particular image from his mind. The last thing he wanted to think about was a naked Wolf...

"Can I help you with anything?" a soft voice asked, interrupting his thoughts. He jumped slightly and turned to face a young woman, slightly taller than he was, wearing a cozy blue sweater and a long grey wool skirt.

"Um, not really. I'm just looking," he said, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she had happened upon him while he'd been thinking such perverted thoughts. She blinked at him from behind her round glasses and smiled. "Are you sure? You don't know anyone who needs a nice, cozy, warm muffler?" She reached up to finger the item in question, flicking one of the long tassels idly with a finger.

"Um. Well..." _I should get it for Wolf,_ he thought. Maybe as an apology...

...For what? Because Wulf had used his boots as a toilet? Or to atone for ten years of bad memories? How could a mere scarf make up for that?

"I'll give you a good deal," the girl said, dragging him from his thoughts once more. She smiled cutely at him, and he blinked. Then, before he could quite stop himself, he asked,

"How much?"

She named a figure that was more than reasonable, and he found himself reaching for his belt-pouch. The girl picked up the scarf and carried it over to the counter, certain he would follow. He trailed behind her, feeling a bit mesmerized by the swinging of her long, brown braid. When she got to the counter, he watched as she neatly wrapped the scarf in a brown paper parcel. He handed her the money and she placed the package into his hands. He nodded his thanks and turned to leave. She walked him to the door and waved him onto the street.

"Kiwi bless," she said, smiling warmly.

"Uh...thanks," Red responded, feeling somewhat dazed. How strange. He felt as if he had seen that girl before, but he knew for sure that he hadn't seen her until today when she sold him the scarf. Perhaps it was her warmth that was familiar to him; he felt like he could tell her his troubles and just hold onto her until the sun rose up again...which, if he thought about it, was quite odd. Red had nearly no luck in the female department (and not just because he preferred males as companions) and found it quite odd that he had developed an attachment in less than two minutes.

But, he realized, there was something odd about that girl...

"Re--er--Jack! There you are. You wandered off. I was worried something had happened to you," Raddy said from a distance away. He flew over towards his friend, taking in the slightly baffled expression on his formerly freckled face. He tilted his head in curiosity. "Are you alright?" he inquired gently, sounding both concerned and a little amused. Red blinked and stared a moment or two at the brown fairy a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just in that sto--"

Red had turned around to indicate which shop he had entered, but found that the quaint little store had mysteriously vanished and in its place was a sex shop selling all manner of things children under the age of eighteen years old shouldn't know about. Blushing, he put his hand down quickly as Raddy laughed, his long ears twitching. Irritated, he shook his fist at the fairy's masked face, pouring every single ounce of indignity he was feeling into that one gesture.

"Shut up! I don't mean _there_! I was just buying Wolf a gift, okay?"

Normally, such a proclamation would have stunned Raddy, but under the circumstances, he couldn't help but laugh more. He was in tears behind his mask, his face split into a wide grin that almost hurt...Not that Red could tell. "Oh, yes...and I'm sure it'll be a spectacular gift...just make sure that Azrael and I aren't in the room when he opens it, alright? Or warn us to get out--"

"It's not like that!" Red insisted.

"The pirate doth protest too much, methinks," Raddy responded gleefully.

Red punched him in the arm with his feeble strength and stalked off, doing his best to ignore the sound of his friend's laughter as it followed him down the street.

The baker's mood was little improved by the time they picked up Wolf's new boots and returned to the hotel. Wolf and Azrael were playing a quiet game of cards in the middle of the suite. When he caught sight of the silver-haired man, Red's foul mood dissipated somewhat and he had to stop himself from gaping. Wolf's long, silvery hair was hanging loose, still damp, in his face. It was a lot longer than Red had realized, coming to just past his shoulders. He had shaved, and was bare-chested. One of the hotel's fluffy blue towels was draped around his shoulders. Red blushed and practically had to tear his eyes away from the hard, chiseled muscles of Wolf's chest. If this were a different sort of story, Red would have pounced on Wolf right then and there. But because Red is a conservative, prudish young man, all he did was gulp and proffer the parcels in his hands to Wolf.

Wolf pretended not to notice the way Red had been checking him out and smiled as he accepted the packages. He opened the first and found a brand-new pair of boots, very similar to his ruined ones, which pleased him. He pulled them on right away to check for fit, and was happy to find that they were only slightly too big. He'd get used to them in time. He glanced at Red questioningly and touched the second parcel. His curiosity was aroused when Red blushed and looked away, shifting his weight nervously. Glancing at Raddy for a clue was completely useless, as the brown Fae only shrugged.

Turning his attention back to the brown package, Wolf tugged on the string holding it together and carefully pulled it open, revealing a green and grey knitted muffler. Surprised, he looked up at Red, who was very carefully watching from the corner of his eye.

"You don't dress warm enough," the baker said gruffly in response to Wolf's puzzled expression.

The smile Wolf gave him in response would have melted all but the most frozen of hearts, and Red's wasn't nearly as bad as _that_. He blushed even harder than before and looked away. Wolf dropped the towel to the floor and wound the muffler round his neck, pulling it up to cover his nose. He inhaled deeply, and the odor of apples and cinnamon filled his senses.

"Thank you," he said.

Red grunted in acknowledgment and ducked into his room on the pretense of gathering his belongings.

"Let's get going before we waste any more time, huh?" he said.

Kiwi's note: I just want to apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took us to get this chapter out. It's solely my fault, as usual, as I was much too poor this past summer to afford an internet connection. But now the drought is over and I think I can safely assure everyone that we should be back to our regular routine of updates from here on out. Bless!

Apple's note: Due to bad continuity errors on my part, this chapter has been edited! Just wanted to clarify. ;)


	14. Seven Degrees of Acquaintance

**CHAPTER 14**

Seven Degrees of Acquaintance

The Spring Fields were known to be picturesque, like out of a child's storybook, with blossoms in full bloom, butterflies fluttering above and a sky so clear no other place in the world could compare. It hadn't always been like this, though. The Spring Fields had once been nothing but a patch of unnamed land that was just as cold and frostbitten as the rest of Saison. But after a pact made between the White and the Heart families some years ago, things had improved greatly for the kingdom of ice and snow.

Set some distance within the idyllic fields was a tower made completely out of glass. One might think this somewhat impractical, but it was not ordinary glass. Nothing could shatter it, and all the magic in the world would simply be siphoned through it. For you see, the magnificent tower was made to be an amplifier for the being who lived within its walls and, as such, needed to be as strong as possible to withstand attack and the elements. To be quite blunt, it was Elvish glass, made from ore found only in Abel and blown and shaped into being by dragons, and could pass the test of time and endurance.

In the highest portion lived a being who was the current incarnation of the Higher Power, Spring. This person carried an inner light that shone as bright as the sun and brought the season of Spring wherever they went, negating the effects of Winter, regardless of the time of year. It was both a blessing and a curse, for although this wonderful person brought happiness and prosperity to others, they could only look forward to perpetual imprisonment until their dying years, trapped in the highest rooms of the Glass Lighthouse...

This was the landmark that Raddy had taken to, as there was no road on which to travel directly towards the Dwarf Mines, which the dwarves themselves kept well hidden from outsiders (with the exception of the White family, whose lands they were constantly digging up). Avund had told him that from the Glass Lighthouse they only needed to go exactly south for about thirty miles. Normally, such a distance by horseback wouldn't seem so bad. In fact, most would gladly walk that distance in less than an hour. But considering they were not traveling by road, the group heading out to the mines would have to ride for half a day or more.

They had left right after Wolf had laced up his new boots, to make sure that they would get to their destination before it got dark--mainly because the muddy fairy was anxious to find Snow as quickly as possible before she was moved again without their knowledge. Azrael had secured a third horse from one of the local nobles in Icicle Town, allowing them to put aside any worries about doubling up. The more a horse carried, the heavier the burden and the more likely it became that something would go awry. So it was that Azrael rode the lovely brown mare with the white spot on her long, elegant face from Saison, while Red was allowed the Elf's personal mount, for the lovely white horse was a very docile creature and would surely be the best for beginning riders to take on, and Wolf rode the other of the Elf's horses.

Not that Red was any sort of novice (he had been through enough scrapes to sometimes warrant the use of a horse), but it had been a while since his last ride on his own. But with a few gentle directions from Wolf (and him blushing the entire time; both from irritation and from something else entirely), he was able to ride alongside the others without too much trouble. Raddy, it went without saying, flew close by.

They arrived at the Glass Lighthouse a little before noon, and dismounted to take a small break and to collect their bearings.

"So," Wolf asked as he leaned his back against the tower, shielding his eyes with his hands to keep out the glare. "Which way do we go exactly?" The Glass Lighthouse was best seen during the night, when it was clear that the light it gave off shone from within, and was not reflected by the sun. The horses had their heads together and were grazing lazily together a few meters away from the lighthouse. Azrael was looking pointedly at anywhere but the tower to avoid having the bright light hurt his sensitive eyes, and Red was using the Elf's shadow to hide in. Raddy, who had his mask to shield him from the worst of it, pointed vaguely south.

"It'll get better once we move away from the Lighthouse. We just have to keep going at a straight line," he explained. A thought occurred to Red, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"But what if we--"

_BONK!_

"Ow!"

A golden ball, about the size of a cantaloupe, had fallen down as if from the heavens and thwacked Raddy on the back of his head, knocking off his mask. It then bounced and flew towards Red, who only just managed to intercept it before he was smacked in the face.

"Are you alright, Radamanthus?" Azrael asked in concern, while Red looked around wildly for the source of the ball.

"Fine," Raddy responded, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. Wolf stooped and picked up Raddy's mask. He handed it to the brown fairy, who accepted it with a tight smile of thanks. Red turned back to his friends just in time to witness Raddy replacing the mask.

"WHO THE BLOODY HELL THREW THIS!?" Red demanded loudly, more irritated than he would ever admit that he had only just missed catching a glimpse of Raddy's face.

"I'm sorry!" a voice called down from above. All four companions looked up as one to catch sight of a young blond man leaning out of a window at the very top of the tower. "I thought Odet would catch it, only he didn't--"

"Don't you dare blame me, young man! You know very well you're not supposed to throw that around in here!" interrupted the voice of another man.

"But I was _bored_," the little blond said, his voice just shy of a whine. "And Alex hasn't visited in a while..."

"Your brother visited you just yesterday!" the other man argued in exasperation. It sounded as if he had gone through this argument many a time before with the youth.

There was a brief silence.

"...Can I, at least, get my ball back?" the boy asked, voice meek, though carrying well down to those below who were listening in.

"And how do you suppose I should go about getting it back?" snapped the man. "The Lighthouse has no stairs; the only way in and out is through the windows and I don't particularly want to know at what velocity a human body can fall from this particular height. If you weren't so irresponsible, Rapunzel..."

"But my ball..." Rapunzel (Red raised an eyebrow at this, wondering how in the world he kept meeting up with people with bizarre names) said plaintively, looking down from the sill with a sad little face. Feeling sorry for him--he was only just playing and there really was no harm in that--Raddy plucked the golden ball from the baker's grasp and flew up to give it to the young man, who squealed with delight so loudly everyone within hearing distance winced at the volume.

"So that's the current incarnation of Spring, eh?" Wolf mused, shielding his eyes as he looked up. "Wonder why they lock him up there...wouldn't it be better if he were able to go around as he pleases instead of staying in one place? Can't be healthy for him..."

Azrael shrugged. "It's the arrangement the House of White made with the Hearts," he explained. "I do feel for the lad, but he doesn't really want for much...and it's no worse than the duties imposed upon princes and knights, really,"

"Hmm," Wolf grunted noncommittally. He knew he'd go stir-crazy if he was locked up indoors for more than twenty-four hours, and couldn't understand how anyone else could feel differently...but it wasn't his problem, so he put it out of his mind in favor of problems that _were_ his...

"So we go south, Raddy? Don't we have more specific directions than just 'south'?" Red spoke up, bringing the discussion back to their original topic of where they were going.

"Yes, south. Avund said the Mines are impossible to miss if you just go south from the Tower."

"Uh huh." Red was somewhat skeptical, but he voiced no further objections.

The four companions traveled in silence after that, the three earth-bound men keeping their horses at brisk trots with the Fae flitting alongside. After an undetermined number of hours passed, Red could see that Raddy had been correct – the entrance to the Dwarf Mines was quite unmistakable, even from a distance. Structures of stone and metal that probably had to do with mining were built up around the place. They were very angular and jagged, easy to spot from afar. As they drew closer, the mouth of the Mine itself became visible. And the word 'mouth' described it perfectly, Red thought in trepidation. Stalactites and stalagmites sprouted in abundance from the opening, creating the maw of an enormous, hungry predator.

Raddy went right in without waiting for the others to dismount.

"Radamanthus, I don't think that's wise!" Azrael called, but the fairy either did not hear or chose to ignore his friend's warning. The Elf sighed and hopped agilely down from his horse. Wolf dismounted gracefully, and Red's knees nearly buckled when his feet hit the ground. Wolf reached out a steadying hand and grabbed his shoulder. Red glared up at him, expecting the silver-haired man to say something mocking, but he only looked concerned. He quickly modified his expression when he saw he wasn't being taunted, attempting a smile.

"Let us be quick, my friends," Azrael said, before he strode to the cavernous opening and disappeared inside.

"Hey, wait up!" Red called, and, swallowing down his misgivings, hurried to follow.

Needless to say that it was quite dark inside and it took the baker a few moments of stupidly squinting as he made his way down the path and into the mind proper, blinking his eyes until he got used to it. He found that, along the downward-sloping path ahead there was a light and vague shapes on the rocky, jagged walls. Many vague, large, _eight legged shapes_. Letting out a yelp of surprise he fumbled about, and turned, thinking to return to the entrance, but noticed that it was not behind him—nor to the left—nor on the right.

Why hadn't either of his friends thought before rushing in like that? Thanks to them he was lost in the middle of a mine! The baker recalled a similar situation back from his younger, carefree days where a living, breathing Snow White had blackmailed and guilted him into accompanying her, Raddy, and Azrael on a spelunking trip that had inevitably gone very wrong. He'd come out of that particular episode with a broken arm, several bruises, and a split lip—and not to mention on the bad side of Cuddles.

He wished he had his cape and his basket; they had been like his security blanket and favorite doll respectively. And he wished he had his long hair back, because Red felt so utterly out of his element now he wanted some old comforts returned to him so that he wouldn't feel so bloody disturbed down here. Even though he was (arguably) a grown man, he couldn't help the childish horror growing inside of him as he put one uncertain foot in front of the other, trying to find the way out.

Stupid Raddy. Stupid Azrael. Stupid—

Red froze and whirled around in place.

Where was Wolf?

"Wolf?" he called out worriedly, his voice echoing deep into the caverns. Where had the silver-haired man gone? He had been right behind him when he had entered the mine, hadn't he? The baker couldn't help the knot in his stomach as he failed to find the leather-clad man who was always dogging his footsteps. Freezing where he stood, he listened as hard as he could for any sound besides his own rather rapid breathing – the rustle of leather, the scuff of a boot, anything. However, moments of utter silence passed into minutes, and his heart was beating faster by the second.

"Wolf!" Red called again, on the verge of panic. He was by himself, in the dark, underground, and there were probably spiders. "Wolf? Azrael! Raddy?" His voice rose louder with each name he called, so by the time he got to Raddy, he was shouting. He was also starting to grow angry. He was lost in some Overpower-forsaken cave thanks to his friends, who were, for all he knew, enjoying a good laugh at his expense. Rationally he knew this wasn't the case – Raddy and Azrael would never laugh at him for something like this...and Wolf? Red was beginning to suspect Wolf wouldn't laugh either.

Fat lot of good that was doing him now.

"RADAMANTHUS! When I find you I am going to _kick_ you in the KNEE!" Red shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice echoed through the caverns for some time before diminishing away to nothing, then fading back to silence. Red sniffled, crossed his arms tight over his chest, and scuffed the toe of his boot on the ground.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there in the dark, planning ways to get even with Raddy for getting him lost like this, before he was startled by a small scraping noise followed by a quiet curse. He looked around wildly, but couldn't make out much more than dark shadows. He was beginning to think he'd only imagined hearing anything at all when a small light bobbed into his line of sight. He could feel hope rising in his chest.

"Wolf?" he called, not caring how eager his voice sounded.

"No wolves down here, laddie," a rough, unfamiliar voice returned.

"Who're you?" Red demanded.

"Given it's my mine an' not yers, oughtn't I to be the one askin' that?" the voice responded, sounding somewhat irritated. The little light was bobbing closer, and the shape of the man who held it was coming into view.

"Sorry," Red apologized. "I just followed my friends down here, and we got separated somehow..." _And now I'm all alone, a tasty morsel ripe for the taking_. He added silently. Overpower above, what had he just gotten into? He could only hope the owner of the voice was a curmudgeonly old geezer with a bad hip and brittle knees...though how he'd outrun him in the dark, Red had no clue...but maybe it wouldn't come to that...

"As if I haven't heard _that_ story a million times before." The owner of the voice was closer than ever, and in the light of the lantern he carried Red could tell that this was no curmudgeonly old man, but a curmudgeonly young one. 

"Really! I came here with Raddy – Radamanthus – we're looking for...er...Avund. Hey, wait a minute!" Red said as the young man finally came fully into view. He was probably over six feet tall, though he was stooped somewhat to accommodate the low ceiling that Red hadn't even noticed. His handsome face was clean-shaven, and his blond hair fell messily into his blue eyes.

He was wearing a red plaid kilt.

Red tried not to think about the very nice pair of legs that were protruding from beneath said kilt. "This is the _Dwarf_ Mine! Last time I checked, every Dwarf _I've_ ever met has been shorter than me – and that's an accomplishment in and of itself. When the Dwarves find out you've been claiming this place as your own, they're probably going to do something nasty to you involving pick-axes and hammers."

The man smirked. "Glad to know that rumor's been circulating. Always was one of my favorites."

Red narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. Anger was overtaking fear once more – this man didn't seem too inclined to violence or other activities, and his smirk was getting on Red's nerves a bit. "And just who the hell are you, anyways? Answer me!"

The man simply shrugged his shoulders and continued to display that Apple-forsaken smirk on his fine face. He didn't seem at all fazed by Red's temper; in fact, his eyes seemed to light up at the prospect of watching the other male lose his cool in front of him. It was a gleam the baker didn't particularly like.

"Well, all ye had t'do was ask," the blond said in a mock-magnanimous manner, giving a swift bow. "My name is _Vrede_."

Red blinked at the name. He rubbed his ears and asked Vrede to repeat himself.

"I'm sorry…what?" he asked. "Did you say '_Fred_'?"

Vrede's expression clouded, going from a smirk to a dark scowl. Apparently many people had problems with his name. "No, it's Vrede. _Vrede_. Emphasis on the 'Vrrrrrr'." The way the supposed owner of the mine said the beginning of his name was a sort of mix of the sounds of 'v' and 'f', with the 'f' being more dominant, which was why Red was having difficulty discerning the proper pronunciation.

"So…it's Fred, then?" Red said, feeling a little better now that he was the one infuriating the other. Vrede looked ready to explode at being called such a mundane-sounding name again.

"Do I _look_ like a Fred to ye?" he demanded, trying to tower over Red in his anger, forgetting exactly how high the ceiling was, and knocking the back of his head on it. He swore colorfully in what the baker assumed was a foreign language, possibly Dwarvish, but Vrede had yet to prove his Dwarf lineage so it was only just a possibility. At the moment, the dark-haired man was seriously considering the answer to this question as he stared at the other, taking in everything about him from his rather aristocratic nose to his blond hair and choice in clothing.

"Your hair isn't red enough," he replied after careful thought, and felt very smug when Vrede smacked his forehead with a hand in annoyance.

"Alright, alright! Now that ye know _my_ name, I demand t'know yers!"

"Red."

"I already know my hair isn't red enough," Vrede barked, his own bad temperament shining through. "Now tell me yer name. Or else!" Red, who was beginning to have more than enough of this foolishness, yelled at the top of his voice, because he thought it wouldn't get through this guy's thick head unless he shouted back.

"It's RED!"

"_It bloody well is not!_" Vrede replied. "Look, ye great simpleton, it's BLOND!" he reached up and tugged a lock of his hair as if to prove his point. He was glaring at Red angrily.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not talking about your hair!" Red responded just as heatedly. "My _name_ is _Red_. Like the _color_. R-E-D! RED!"

"That's fantastic. And my name is 'Bangs-yer-heads-together-to-stop-ye-from-shouting-and-causing-a-cave-in-that-I-would-inevitably-have-to-clear-out,'" spoke up another voice, this one from behind Red. The two arguing men jumped, and Vrede banged his head on the ceiling a second time. Neither had heard the approach of the new arrival because they'd been so busy shouting.

"Like ye've ever done a day's work in yer life, Lat," Vrede said scornfully, rubbing his skull gingerly where it had connected yet again with the hard stone.

"That remains t'be seen," the new voice said indulgently. Red turned to look at the new arrival, and saw that he was just as tall, blond, blue-eyed, and handsome as Vrede, though his demeanor - from his relaxed facial expression to his posture - were completely different. That, and _his_ kilt was blue.

"What are ye doing up here, Lat?" Vrede asked, scowling.

Lat made a 'hmm' sound as he walked over to the two rather grumpy fellows in the cavern in a leisurely fashion, taking his time. His eyes were practically arched up merrily, almost closed as he looked his comrade and Red over. This person seemed like the type to be happy about just anything, and possibly extremely air-headed if the way he spoke next was any indication.

"Weeeeell…" Lat began, slowly drawing out the word. "...I had left the cottage out in the woods nearby with the explicit task of seeking out a certain rectangular containment unit the size and width of which could fit a moderate amount of opaque stark liquid made of bovine extract mostly made out of mixed elements found anywhere with large plants with large girths that could make a giant look disastrously anorexic in comparison. However, after setting my _pes_ upon the winding road down into the dark depths of the mines after the allotted item given to me—I wanted a gentle whiff of that lofty, loamy aroma before setting off on a journey towards the land of dairy--I happened to peek in on something most casual onlookers would miss in the beautiful, moist and dank void that is the earth home beneath the surface that is our lovely, wonderful mines, which lead me to utter distraction and going down the wrong way for a ways away and away and away and then I fell down a shaft that never was, but existed nonetheless, and was left wandering for an extended amount of time, which would be equaled to less than quarter and a half, more or less, of a week."

There was a brief but profound silence.

Then Vrede groaned and slapped his forehead with his hand. "Ye got lost again, didn't ye?"

Lat nodded, beaming ever-so-innocently and cheerfully at his fellow miner. "Yes. Quite an impressive way t'go about it, eh?"

Red just stared. _I barely understood half of what he said._

"Did ye at least get the milk?" Vrede asked, his voice weary and long-suffering.

"Not at all!" was the merry response.

Red felt a sort of kindred connection with Vrede when the tall, angry man sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and began massaging the bridge of his nose.

"But I know where I am now," Lat added when Vrede said nothing further.

"Are ye certain of that?" Vrede asked.

"Oh, aye," was the response.

"Then why don't ye come with us and we'll go find Avund?"

"That sounds like an excellent plan. Um," Lat seemed to hesitate.

"Yes?" Vrede asked. Red could hear the exaggerated patience in the man's tone, patience he knew he wasn't feeling at all.

"Who is this?"

"He's Red. Apparently." Vrede said shortly.

"Red? Oh, Snow's little friend?"

Bristling slightly at being called Snow's 'little friend', Red nodded.

"Oh! Ye're _that_ Red!" Vrede looked surprised. "I thought ye'd be taller."

Red muttered something obscene under his breath. Lat gasped and looked scandalized.

"Right back at'cher, my lad," Vrede said with a smirk. Red scowled and _thought_ more obscenities, very quietly, to himself. Vrede continued to smirk, as though he knew exactly what Red was thinking and was amused by it.

"Look, are we going to stand around talking all day, or are we going to go find Avund? Because as much as I've come to _love_ shooting the breeze with you…" Red said after a moment, glaring with all of his might at Vrede, who seemed to be in better spirits now that Red was annoyed.

"Yes, let's go find Avund!" Lat said, his blue eyes widening somewhat as he dropped a bit of his cheerful demeanor. Vrede regarded him with an inscrutable expression for a moment before nodding once, curtly.

"This way, Red-me-lad, and watch yer step,"

"Watch your _head_," Red muttered back, eliciting a snort of irritation from Vrede. The two of them shared a mutual glare of dislike that lasted for quite a while, until it was—randomly—broken up by Lat.

"Red sammich!"

"Huh?" said Red and Vrede. They turned around in time to see the carefree blond jump up and latch onto the baker, cuddling him like an oversized teddy bear. Lat had a huge grin on his face as he held on tightly, rubbing his smooth cheek against Red's, inadvertently transferring some of the foundation make-up from Red's face to his. The baker and the tall miner stayed like this for quite some moments, and it soon became clear that Lat was waiting for something, after he turned his gaze over to Vrede.

"Well?" Lat asked.

"Well, what?" Vrede grunted in reply.

"Aren't ye going to join in? We can't have a Red sammich without someone behind him," Lat explained. Vrede crossed his arms and looked back defiantly, stubbornly refusing to join in on the group hug.

"Why should I?" he demanded gruffly. He should have known better than to pose a question starting with one of the five 'W's (they being Who, What, Where, When and Why—sometimes How would join the group, but very rarely) in front of Lat, for the man had a very bad habit of going on and on, talking about something that could have just as easily been said in one simple sentence--which was surprising, considering his usually lazy nature.

"Well….according to the latest study of the psychology department at the Hero's Academy in the Eastern Continent, experts say that the reason why most villains go down the deplorable, despicable journey of utter bad wickedness is because, since a very immature timeline, they (they being those inexplicably—yet explicably, if one takes into account these studies made upon the villain's inner psyche—mean and nasty people who like to do not nice things to someone somewhere in the middle road) had an extreme lack of the one thing we would all like to experience at least once in our lives—a simple, wonderful, ecstatic and broadening thing everybody calls Love." Lat stopped a moment and took a deep breath, before continuing with his lengthy explanation.

"And as such, we come to the conclusion that if these _personae_ were to only experience the full effect of tenderness and affection, we would be in a happier, mentally healthier world filled with happy unicorns and flying pigs. But, in short, what I really mean to say is that each and every individual has a certain amount of emotional requirements which need to be filled, hence the word, and the best and swiftest way to fulfill these daily obligations to our blood-pumpers is through the ritual which involves circling both of ones biceps around the shoulders of another living being at least the number of times it takes to yell 'snake'!"

Finally done with his monologue, the miner gave a dreamy smile, which was followed by a pregnant silence.

"So…ye think a person needs three hugs a day to stay emotionally healthy?" Vrede finally said.

"It's been proven--" Lat began, when Red interrupted.

"I hate unicorns," he said, pushing Lat away. He stalked off down the tunnel for several paces to prove his point before turning back to the two miners. "Are you coming, or not?"

Vrede was regarding him with what Red was beginning to think of as his usual irritated expression, and Lat was looking at him like he'd just kicked a puppy.

"Ye…ye don't like unicorns?" he asked in a wavering voice, sounding very close to tears.

Vrede smirked. "Must be a virgin," he commented.

Instead of exploding as he would have liked, Red managed to avoid rising to the bait by silently counting to ten before speaking. "I fail to see what unicorns and my sex life have to do with finding Avund," he said coldly, glaring at the pair of them. Lat's woebegone expression disappeared as he was reminded of their purpose, and Vrede managed to look slightly abashed.

They continued on their way in silence after that; Vrede leading, Lat following, and Red trailing behind. As they went what felt like deeper and deeper into the mines, Red pondered on the nature of his odd companions. They claimed to be miners, but they looked somewhat like elves - though not like any elves Red had ever seen; they were each far to masculine in build to be mistaken for elves. They were not human either, though, as their ears were rather long and pointy, like a Fae's. But they also weren't Fae, because the coloring was wrong. Red had heard that sometimes Dwarves mixed with other races and that, very rarely, Dwarvish children were born with un-Dwarvish traits, such as these two possessed. Could these two then be…?

Suddenly, he realized that that Lat had called him "Snow's little friend." Which meant that the two knew Snow, as well as Avund…and now that he thought about it, he recalled Snow saying something, all those years ago, about how her seven housemates were actually remarkably tall Dwarves and not men at all. Red had never had the opportunity to meet any of them before he'd been arrested, after all, and so it hadn't properly clicked until just that moment: Lat and Vrede were two of Snow's Dwarf friends!

"Say, yer know what?" Lat began, his voice breaking the silence around them, bouncing off the walls in resonating echoes.

"What?" the other Dwarf asked, patient irritation in his tone. By the sound of things the man knew exactly what was coming and was inwardly bracing himself for the dreaded, inevitable ramblings that were clearly imminent with the asking of such a question.

"Avund caught a swallow a while ago, as ye probably remember, Vrede--"

"Here it comes," Vrede grumbled, knowing there was no way to stop the onslaught of jumbled up pseudo-intellectual lecture coming his and Red's way.

"It's an Eastern Continent swallow, ye know, indigenous to open fields and forests where their main food sources—rats and snakes--are plentiful. Ye can tell it's from the Eastern Continent by the little yellow crest on its belly and by how much it is able to carry (and this little guy can carry quite a lot). Do _ye_ know how much an Eastern swallow is capable of holding in its clawed feet?" By the end, the cheerful blond Dwarf had turned his attention towards Red, who seemed more receptive of his rambling than Vrede, who was quite familiar with all of this nonsense after years and years of hearing it and was concentrating on walking, annoyed at having to hear it all again. Lat looked at Red with big, expectant eyes, which, combined with the random question just directed at him, caused the baker to feel somewhat flabbergasted.

"Uh," was Red's intelligent response. Vrede took pity on him (for once) and gave out the answer, having practically memorized this particular lecture on the habits of Eastern swallows already.

"Two hundred pounds," he drawled, earning himself a beaming look from Lat.

"Exactly!" He chirped, while Red stared on in awe, not quite believing the tangent they had strayed to this time round. "The Eastern swallow -- or **_Eostre_****_Hirundinidae_** -- is actually a well-known monster in that region of the world—one that any adventurer could stumble upon. Most budding heroes often face off with these little buggers their first day out--"

"How _very_ interesting, Lat, but must ye always bring up the subject of Eastern swallows?" Vrede interrupted. "Honestly, it's all Snow and Överseende's fault...indulging ye all the time. Ye know what ye are, Lat? Ye're spoiled!"

What his fellow Dwarf had said seemed to cut Lat very deeply, so much that it silenced him for a while. He stopped walking, his expression like that of a kicked puppy as he looked at Vrede's back as it grew smaller and smaller as the man continued to walk on without him. Vrede stopped eventually, glanced over his shoulder and glowered at him, telling him that he'd better keep silent. But, as he knew, there was no real way of stopping Lat once he got to talking about whatever popped into his head. All the grumpy Dwarf could ever do, when it came right down to it, was to merely accept the inevitable.

In what was possibly the quickest recovery Red had ever seen (and he had often been the one to pull some of the fast ones), Lat perked up and continued on, much to his companions' chagrin.

"Eastern swallows are vicious when you make your first encounter, debuting in the world as a great, young adventurer, but once you've caged them they're rather decent little familiars. They can carry parcels, letters—people, if they're light enough..."

Red wasn't quite sure how much more of Lat's rambling he'd be able to stand as he went on and on about the uses of a bird that could carry a very small cow if it wanted to, and was very glad to see a light at the end of a tunnel veering to his right. He pointed it out even as he began to race towards it.

"I see a light at the end of the tunnel!" Red shouted to the others, who stared after him with matching stunned expressions, which quickly changed into identical looks of horror.

"No!"

"Don't go into the light! Ye'll die, ye will!"

The two dwarves kept on shouting after Red, who thought he was almost out of the stuffy mine and into open air. Oh, the frigid, unforgiving air of Winter! Well, Spring, since half of Saison seemed to be engulfed in it. There wasn't ever a time when he had missed the clear blue sky as much as he did when he was stuck in a cave with Lat and Vrede at his side. He only had a small stretch to go until freedom! Four meters, three meters, two, one--

"Ah!"

What Red had taken for the light of the sun outside happened to be a very bright lamp with a tiny sign attached to it written in illegible Dwarvish, which, were he a Dwarf, would have told him that he would soon fall to his doom. In perfectly plain Dwarvish, it read: 'DANGER: VERY DEEP DROP'. But as our protagonist is neither particularly short and stumpy nor in possession of a heavy beard and accent, he wasn't able to comprehend the warning, and was just on the verge of plummeting to his doom—had someone not grasped onto his arm just in the nick of time.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF APPLE HERSELF ARE YE DOIN', YE GREAT IDIOT!?" Vrede bellowed even as he pulled Red away from a doomful fall.

"TRYING TO ESCAPE WITH MY SANITY INTACT, NO THANKS TO YOU!" Red shouted right back.

Vrede would have yelled something else were it not for Lat thumping him soundly on the back in warning. "If ye're going to shout any more, wait until we're outside," he said firmly. "I was serious when I said I didn't want to clean up a cave-in." He scowled at Vrede first, then at Red. Surprised at the cheerful Dwarf's sudden change in demeanor, Red gulped slightly and dropped his gaze, contrite. Vrede simply glared at Lat and sulked.

"Now, why don't we try to behave ourselves for the rest of the way, hmm?" Lat said cheerfully after an awkward silence had passed, all smiles once more. He took Red by the arm and tugged him away from Vrede, who still had a grip on his other arm, and began walking him back the way he had come as one walks with a very small child. Red scowled fiercely but didn't resist.

Once they were back into the tunnel they had left, Lat let go of his arm and took the lead, walking ahead of him. Red hoped to every higher power that existed that the cheerful Dwarf would remain silent for the rest of the journey, and that the rest of the journey would be short, but was sorely disappointed when Lat began speaking again, this time rambling about the volatile nature of the deep-sea dragons that lived off the coast of the Draggo'nyte Islands far to the south. Vrede seemed to have heard this particular lecture at least once before, because he took to answering Lat's frequent, quiz-like questions in an impatiently indulgent manner, saving Red the worry of trying to work meaning out of Lat's drawn-out, rambling sentences.

It was probably a half-hour or longer before they finally exited their tunnel and entered a shadowy, fire-lit, high-ceilinged chamber, which seemed to be populated by several other tall, blond, kilt-clad miners, and…

"Raddy! Azrael!" Red shoved past Lat and broke into a run when he saw the backs of his two friends sitting amongst the Dwarves, eager for their familiar faces and intelligent, _sane_ conversation.

"Red!" Raddy stood up to welcome his friend, opening his arms to embrace him, and howled in pain a moment later when Red kicked him hard in the shin.

"_What the hell is wrong with you!?_" Red shouted at his friend, fists clenched in righteous anger. "_Running off without waiting for us and getting lost! DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS!?" _Of course, at the time he had been a little more worried about himself, but he wasn't going to mention that now.

"Sorry," Raddy muttered sheepishly, clutching his leg with both hands as though that would ease the sting. He hunched his shoulders defensively in case Red felt the urge to attack him once more, but the baker only huffed angrily through his nose, crossed his arms, and sat down next to Azrael on the rock Raddy had vacated.

A snort of laughter from one of the Dwarves caused Red to glare. This one was wearing a green kilt, and sitting on his rock with his left ankle crossed over his right knee, making Red _very_ glad the chamber was as full of shadows as it was. "Sounds just like Vrede, that one," the green-clad Dwarf commented, smirking over Red's shoulder at the Dwarf in question.

"I DO NOT SOUND LIKE HIM!" Red and Vrede both shouted at the same time, offended. This caused everyone else in the chamber to burst into laughter. Vrede and Red both crossed their arms in an unintentional mirror of the other and glared round at no one in particular. When the laughter had died down somewhat, Red was nearly bumped off his perch by Lat, who suddenly tackled Azrael from behind in a gleeful hug.

"Azzie!" he exclaimed, snugging the Elf close. Azrael beamed.

"Hello, Lat!" he responded, hugging back.

Not long after that, a round of introductions took place, though Red wasn't certain he'd be able to remember which Dwarf was which (not counting Lat and Vrede, both of whom he rather wished he could _forget_). It didn't help that they were all blond-haired, blue-eyed, and ridiculously good-looking...at least to Red. The Dwarf in green was Avund, who they had all been coming to see - Överseende was the one in grey, Stolthet wore purple, and Girighet was in yellow. There was one more that was yet to join them, he learned, by the name of Åtrå.

Once everyone had made everyone else's acquaintance, Raddy and Avund (who seemed to be the unofficial spokesman for the Dwarves) began discussing in detail how they would go about searching for Snow, going over what they already knew, and confirming what had already been attempted. Red listened for a little while, but soon found his mind wandering as he became bored. Glancing around at all the Dwarves and at his friends, he abruptly realized something was missing.

"Where's Wolf?" he whispered to Azrael, trying to ignore his own sudden alarm at the man's absence.

Azrael blinked. "I don't know," he responded, concerned. Looking around, he took a breath to interrupt Raddy and Avund in order to bring the absence of their companion to general attention, but then paused and cocked his head, listening. Red immediately copied his friend, though he didn't hear what the Elf had for several moments. When he could make it out, however, he felt a little knot of anger form in his gut.

"--Must say, yer trousers are _quite_ tight," he could just hear an unfamiliar voice say.

"About as tight as your kilt is short, do you think?" came the response, slightly louder and much, much more familiar.

"Oh, do ye think so?" the first voice asked flirtatiously. The conversation was clearly audible now. There was no immediate reply, but then the same voice continued, "Oh, stoop! Ye tease!"

"Tease? You wound me!"

By now Red and Azrael had turned to look at one of the side tunnels from whence the voices were emerging, Azrael's expression as curious as Red's was furious, though the baker was hardly aware of it.

The owners of the voices emerged from their tunnel, and almost immediately caught sight of the large group camped out in the middle of the large chamber. One was dressed all in black and had a green and grey muffler draped over his shoulders, and the other wore an orange kilt that offset his deep red hair. He carried something cradled in his arms, though Red was so busy glaring at Wolf he didn't register exactly what that 'something' was until Azrael leapt to his feet and shouted,

"Snow!"

To say 'all hell broke loose' is possibly an understatement, though it fairly accurately describes what happened next. Raddy rushed over to Wolf and Åtrå (for who else could it be?) and immediately began berating them both even as he practically snatched Snow's sleeping form from the Dwarf's strong arms. Azrael and all the other Dwarves crowded round the two new arrivals, each demanding attention and asking loud questions, which echoed and magnified throughout the cavern, making it sound as though there were several times the number of speakers than actually present. Through it all Red remained where he had been seated. He wasn't even aware he was glaring at Wolf until the man, who hadn't seen him in the crowd, looked round the cavern and spotted him. The silver-haired man had immediately begun to smile upon catching his eye, though his expression changed in a heartbeat when he noticed the look Red was giving him.

_Bastard,_ Red thought, perfectly unmoved by the wounded expression Wolf was making. Averting his gaze from Wolf's unhappy and confused face, he crossed his arms and studied the toes of his boots, doing his best to ignore everything that was going on round him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Kiwi's Note: Sorry once again for the delay in getting out our chapter! I _think_ we're over the difficult spot of getting back into our groove, so hopefully the next chapter will come out much more quickly than this one did. In any event, we've set up a journal over on LJ where we intend to post updates on our progress, as well as any drabbles or ficlets we might write. Check us out at ironicoverpower dot livejournal dot com, if you're interested. )


	15. Hero Tryouts

**CHAPTER 15**

Hero Tryouts

About a half-hour's walk away from the entrance of the Dwarf mines was a deceptively small cottage, cradled snugly within the depths of the Snowy Forest. Within the cottage lived seven Dwarves, all of whom had an unfortunate tendency towards giantism. It happened occasionally among the Dwarves, who were an open and accepting people, and who held no taboos in regards to inter-species mingling. The interesting thing about Dwarf biology is that a coupling between a Dwarf and a human (for instance) won't necessarily produce a tall child right away - the gene for height might lay dormant for two or three or more generations before manifesting.

This was basically how the seven miners who claimed friendship with Snow White had come to be; the mothers and fathers of each had been, for all outward appearances, pure Dwarf, though it was clear in each instance from the gangly, bean-pole appearance of their young offspring that there had been some mixing of the blood several generations back. The seven had come to know one another in their teens--at that awkward time when acceptance among peers who are different than oneself is difficult to find--and had been friends and comrades ever since.

"OUT! OUT! OUT OF MY KITCHEN!"

"Aww, no fair, Stolthet…" Girighet complained as he was shoved bodily from the kitchen.

"Ye too, Lat!"

"But Stolthet--" a thwacking noise "--OW! Ye don't have t' hit so hard!"

"Yes I do! Get yer great dirty fingers out of the batter! That's fer our guests, not fer ye!"

"But…"

"Ye heard me! Go bother Vrede, ye great loaf, I'm busy!"

"OI!" Vrede spoke up from the living area, just as Lat was shoved, pouting, from the kitchen. Stolthet stuck his head out after and glared warningly at the general assembly seated round the glass coffin in the center of the living room. When his gaze fell on Red, he blinked and looked considering.

"Red? I seem t' recall Snow saying as how yer something of a baker? Mind giving me a hand in here?"

Red, who had up until this point been basically ignored by everyone (not that he minded) except Wolf (which he minded very much at the moment), looked at him in surprise. "Er…well, yes, if you like," he said, standing even as he spoke. Stolthet beamed and withdrew his head back into the kitchen. Without a backward glance at the odd little assembly, Red followed, glad to be out of sight of Wolf's injured puppy-dog eyes. He was having a difficult time maintaining his anger under the constant onslaught of such a pathetic, apologetic expression, and was relieved at the opportunity for some distance.

Stolthet smiled as he entered the kitchen and quickly finished braiding his longish hair, wrapping a string neatly round the end. Red felt a pang of loss as he recalled his own, much longer braid, tied neatly and bundled away beneath his red cloak in his basket back at the hotel.

"Girighet's been whigning about wanting a peach cobbler for ages, but I've got me hands full with this bloody cake. D'ye think ye can manage?" he asked. Red smirked.

"I'm sure I can come up with something,"

Stolthet caught his expression and smirked back. "Well, then, supplies're in the cupboard there, peaches're on the counter, an' dishes're beneath the sink."

Red was pleased to discover Stolthet, at least, was someone whose company he could tolerate cheerfully; quite a relief after Vrede and Lat, it had to be said. They chatted comfortably as they moved about the kitchen together, interrupted from time to time by exclamations from the other room ("Lat! Get yer feet down! She's not a footstool!" "Sorry, Vrede…").

"Y'know," Stolthet said as they both took a break, leaning against the counter as they watched the oven opposite. "I don't mean to pry, but I couldn't help but notice yer lad…Wolf?"

"He's not _mine,_" Red said, stomach clenching slightly as he shot a warning glare at Stolthet, who wisely ignored it.

"What I mean to say is, ye shouldn't be angry at him; Our Åtrå, he flirts with anything that moves, and ye'd have trouble not flirtin' back even if ye was up t' yer neck in ice water. He doesn't mean anything by it, it's just how 'e is, y'know?"

Red bit his lip as he stared at the oven and tried not to be so relieved. One part of him was annoyed and astonished that the other part was still so insistent on being angry, especially when he didn't really _like_ being angry at Wolf.

Finally, he sighed. "I guess," he said. Stolthet smiled and bent down to peek in the oven, and they shared a companionable silence for several minutes before it was broken by a shout from the next room.

"LAT! How many times do I have t' tell ye!?"

"Sorry, Vrede."

After things had finally calmed down a bit, those not busily doing kitchen work were discussing a plan of action. Right now on the Scoreboard of Life, they were up one princess, but as of yet had no way to wake her up. For lack of a better location, Snow's coffin had been laid out carefully on the coffee table in the living area, which was the cleanest place (at least when Lat wasn't resting his muddy boots on it) according to the seven dwarves.

_That can't be comfortable_, Wolf mused to himself as he looked at the princess' motionless body inside the ornate glass coffin. The girl had been confined in that space for nearly ten years now, and had just recently been buried in it on top of that. He and Åtrå had had to do quite a bit of digging before they'd managed to pry the girl out of the coffin, which had been stuck in a small collapse. They had stumbled upon her quite by accident, and neither had wanted to leave her while they went for help, so they'd left the coffin behind and taken her along to search for the others. Once they'd met up with everyone else and gotten semi-organized in the cavern, they'd gone back for the coffin.

Wolf had heard many rumors about the one and only Snow White of Saison through his travels, some good; some not so good. One of the things Wolf had heard, but never witnessed himself until now, was of the supposedly unequaled beauty of Saison's heir-apparent. Even though he loved Red with the passion of a thousand white-hot suns (plus one single, lonely red dwarf), Wolf had to admit that Snow was indeed a very lovely girl…

_Good thing I've sworn off princesses_, Wolf thought in great amusement, grinning slightly. He began a light stroll down memory lane, sending his mind back to the days where he had roamed as he pleased and did much the same with whoever he chose to grace his bed…not that he was bitter or anything, but ten years _was_ a long time to wait for someone. But Wolf had decided all those years ago that Red would be the only one for him, and he had stuck by this decision through thick and thin (as well as abuse and treacle muffins).

His grin faded as he recalled that he had somehow once again stepped into Red's bad graces. He'd tried explaining that he had only hung behind for a moment to tie up the horses before following Red into the mine, and that once inside he must have taken a wrong turn and gotten himself lost, but the baker hadn't seemed interested. Wolf couldn't imagine what else could possibly have made Red so angry at him in such a short amount of time, unless…

He looked around the crowded room and caught sight of Åtrå, who chanced to glance up and meet his eye. The red-haired Dwarf leered suggestively, and Wolf couldn't help but leer right back. Now _that_ was one sexy man; Wolf had quite enjoyed chatting and flirting with him when he had come to his rescue in the mine. They'd been going at it, teasing and goading, almost from the beginning…had been, in fact, all the way to the large chamber where they'd met up with the others.

Wolf blinked, breaking eye-contact with the smirking Dwarf, and glanced at the kitchen where Red had disappeared. Was it possible that the baker had overheard their ridiculous conversation? Sound did carry quite oddly down below the earth, that was for sure. It was possible Red _had_ heard them, he supposed. But why would he be angry?

Wolf blinked again and shook his head at himself. There was no way Red was _jealous._ What a thought! In all the long years Wolf had known him (stalked him, shadowed him, eavesdropped on him), he'd never known the man to be jealous. Of anything, really. And he didn't even _like_ Wolf, he'd said so often enough himself…of course he wouldn't be jealous if Wolf was flirting with another man.

"...and then we could come in swinging on vines!"

While he had been musing on men who no longer wore cheerful little red capes, the dwarves (mainly Girighet and Överseende) had been working on a very complicated plan to revive Snow, which Wolf had only just caught the confusing tail end of.

"That is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard, Giri," Vrede stated, his tone incredulous.

"Well, it may be a little farfetched, but if we tried hard enough..." Överseende spoke up, but was immediately cut off by the self-same usually irritable dwarf.

"_No_," was Vrede's final answer. Wolf cleared his throat to speak when it became clear nobody else was going to add anything.

"Um, excuse me, but...what in the world are you _fine_ gents talking about?" he inquired, his expression somewhat baffled. Several sets of blue eyes turned in his direction, as if their owners were just realizing he was there for the first time. Wolf stared back. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Ah, almost forgot ye were there," Girighet said with a hint of curiosity. "Wolf, was it? Well, y'see lad...had ye been listening properly, ye would've heard that I came up with the best plan to awaken our dear sleeping Snow White."

"And that would be...?" Wolf asked, wondering if he really should have questioned the Dwarf. The blond man was about to open his mouth to speak, but Vrede leaned across Snow's coffin and stuffed a bunched up sock into Girighet's wide open mouth (a sock, it must be told, that he had just removed from his own foot whilst his comrade had been busy being distracted by Wolf).

"Ye don't need t' know," Vrede said, satisfied that he had both shut up and disgusted Girighet, who got on his nerves almost as much as Lat (or anyone, really) did. "It's a stupid idea, and we're not going to do it. Anyway, Radamanthus already knows how t' wake Snow up...it's just a matter of how we go about it."

"What happened to the contest we planned back at the hotel?" Wolf asked, turning to Raddy. The brown fairy took a breath to answer, but was interrupted by Girighet, who had since taken the sock from his mouth, balled it up, and lobbed it at Vrede's head.

"Jes' what do ye think yer doin', ye pansy bastard!?" Vrede yelled, knocking the rather filthy sock to the floor.

"Showin' ye it's not polite t' stuff foul dirty socks into people's mouths!" Girighet yelled back, rising from his seat in anger.

"How else d'ye expect me to shut yer gobhole?" Vrede retorted, standing up himself, glowering.

"I don't!"

"Take it outside, lads, 'afore I knock _both_ yer jaws in," Avund spoke up, scowling at the pair of them.

"Why don't ye try it?" Vrede sneered, turning his glare on Avund. Before the green-clad Dwarf could respond, however, he was interrupted.

"Vrede…" Lat spoke up from where he was still seated. Vrede turned to glare at Lat, who was staring up at him with the roundest, most pathetic puppy-dog eyes Wolf had ever seen. The angry Dwarf stared at Lat for some moments before he seemed to deflate, and sat back down.

"Sorry," he muttered, though whether he was addressing Lat or Girighet was unclear.

"I'll give ye sorry!" Girighet growled, and took a step towards Vrede before his righteous wrath was distracted by a fist-sized, solid object connecting square on the back of his head. He whirled on his new attacker and was confronted by Stolthet, who had appeared from the depths of the kitchen. He held what looked to Wolf to be a muffin in his hand, and was idly tossing it in the air and catching it again as he glared.

"For shame, the pair of ye. Didn't yer mothers teach ye t' have better manners in front of guests?"

"Bugger off, Stolthet," Girighet growled.

"Shan't. I also shan't be handin' out any peach cobbler, if this childish horseplay carries on."

Girighet glared for several seconds at Stolthet, whose only response was to raise an eyebrow and toss the muffin he held into the air once more. Finally, he too sat back down, though with much ill grace.

"Hmph," Stolthet snorted, and his gaze raked over everyone else in the room, as though he were searching for other trouble-makers to punish. Finally, satisfied that he had dealt with the worst of the problem, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

Raddy watched the Dwarf go (or maybe he was looking elsewhere. Nobody was really certain where the brown fairy was concerned), and then cleared his throat to gain the attention of everyone in the room. "As I was trying to say," the Fae began, "I was going to suggest it, Wolf, but Girighet insisted on going on and on about piranhas, vines, teaspoons, and giant, hollow, wooden horses before I could get a word in edgewise."

The wooden mask moved with Raddy's head as he seemed to take in every face within the living area, all seated and paying attention to him now that things had settled down.

"But now that I'm able to speak...perhaps I can explain what Red, Wolf, Azrael and I have managed to come up with." As the Fae finished, he turned towards the Elf, who was, surprisingly, dozing next to Lat on one of the couches in the room.

The brown-haired Elf was neatly tucked under the Dwarf's arm, quietly snoozing despite the racket everyone was making. He had been oddly quiet throughout the entire exchange, and Raddy had wondered if, perhaps, he hadn't been able to get a word in himself, but now he saw he was asleep, he realized Azrael deserved some rest. Prior to their meeting, he had been looking for them for nearly a week, and had had no chance to rest once he'd found them, choosing to stay up into the wee hours and then waking up early the next day as was his habit. Elves were a resilient people, but even they could succumb to fatigue.

Upon seeing where Raddy's gaze had landed, Vrede was the first to say something.

"Elves," he simply remarked, with a roll of his blue eyes.

"Well," Raddy said, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess it doesn't matter…anyway!" he was full of energy now, returning the topic to the matter at hand. "The cure to Snow's curse is actually relatively simple…however, finding the correct person to implement it is certainly going to be the biggest challenge."

"And what is it that Snow needs?" Avund asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he looked attentively at Raddy. The brown fairy shifted on his backless stool for a moment, seemingly uneasy. But when he spoke his voice was steady.

"I understand that to break the curse, Snow must be kissed awake by her One True Love."

"Aye? Well if that's the case, there's men a'plenty right here. Why don't we each have a go?" Åtrå spoke up, grinning.

"Don't be lewd, Åtrå," Överseende muttered, giving the redhead a little kick.

"That won't work," Raddy said, his voice slightly icy. "Unless one of you happens to have royal blood in your veins?" He looked around, and when no one responded with the affirmative, continued, "It's going to take a prince or a hero to break the curse, because Snow is a princess, and will one day rule Saison as Queen." If he was being a bit optimistic in his assumption that Snow would eventually rise to power, no one said anything. His attachment to the young woman was quite clear, and, truth be told, all of the men in the room with the exception of Wolf had some emotional attachment to her. Every one of them wanted her to awaken, now that they knew it was possible, and they wanted it to happen as soon as it could.

"The four of us had an idea for a tournament…" Raddy began, and went on to outline the plan he and his friends had made. When he finished, all of the Dwarves were looking thoughtful.

"It's a damn sight better than Giri's stupid plan, I have to say," Vrede remarked.

"Get stuffed, Vrede," Girighet growled.

"Knock it off," Avund said, glaring at the pair.

--------------------

All was silent in Snow Castle; not even a hollow wind dared to whisper within the vacant hallways. Or was it as empty as one might be led to believe? While a place may seem deserted to the casual observer, no place could ever be truly empty as long as it still had something in it, whether it was a solid object or even sounds bouncing off of the stone walls, echoing off into the distance until it was drowned out by the other noises of nature raging outside. It snowed constantly in Saison, so any noise being made inside the white castle wouldn't be so easily heard outside. Even more so the deeper the origin of the sound went…

Despite being a rather cheerful kingdom (which it had been once, before Snow White's supposed demise at the hands of her close friend) even Snow Castle came equipped with its very own creepy set of drafty dungeons. Rarely were they used, as the towns of Saison contained their own jails to lock up criminals, and even the worst of the worst had never earned a spot within the cold stone prison hidden underneath the glittering palace above.

Because, of course, _those_ prison cells were reserved for the former queen's abominations.

Under lock and key (and various heavy duty spells) were kept the results of the former mad queen's various experiments; beasts of questionable birth and horrific appearance, the like of which very few had ever bared witness to. Their mothers (sometimes their fathers) had long ago either died from bringing them into the world or gone insane and killed themselves out of grief, abandoning them into their dismal fate of being locked up forever. Well, not locked up forever. Some were too fierce and wild to keep and had had to be put down for the good of the kingdom. The bodies had been disposed of in a place where no one would accidentally stumble upon them.

At the time, the plot of land chosen for that purpose had been nothing more than a desolate area filled with ice, just as the rest of the kingdom was, but after being 'newly sown' had begun blooming with green and petals as if perpetually in the grip of Spring. This huge graveyard soon came to be known simply as the Blessed Garden by the local folk, and many came there to have their unions blessed or to have secret trysts, as the cover of the tall, lush plants was very good for that sort of thing. And, until recently, it had, ironically, been where Snow White had been laid to rest when she 'died'.

The Queen had removed that wretched girl and had ordered the two sniveling creatures before her take the coffin containing Snow White into the Dwarf Mines to keep her hidden from her friends, who seemed to know how to awaken her. Ten years…ten years it had been since Princess Snow had last breathed a breath of fresh Saison air…and it would be another ten at least before Helen deTrois would let that happen again!

Helen glared down at the two monstrosities that she had let out of eternal incarceration. They were both trembling and shaking. Pathetic. Lifting her long skirt, she kicked the nearest one, sneering at it as it whimpered at her, its malformed nose dribbling with snot. It lifted its under-sized furry head at her, making pitiful eyes, but Helen would have none of it and kicked it again in the snout, sending it reeling.

"Imbeciles! I told you to hide her _deep_ within the mines! How could you let that stupid little baker and those dirty little dwarves find her?!" The woman demanded, looking down her nose at them. The other creature that hadn't yet tasted abuse cringed when she stood in front of it, trying hard not to show fear, but failing. The Queen's temper was very short this day. She held up the hand mirror she carried with her at all times. Its surface reflected not the horrible forms of the beasts who stared into it, but showed them a silent animated image of the seven dwarves speaking with a brown fairy and a man in black leather. The creatures stared fearfully into the tiny scene taking place in the mirror, each wondering what the woman would do next. When the hand holding the mirror jerked suddenly, viciously swiping the air in front of them, they flinched in unison, and knew nothing more.

The queen stared down at two dark shadows that were all that remained of the cowering monsters, lip curled with disgust. Spinning on her heel, she turned her back squarely on the remains of the unfortunate beasts and stalked out of the dungeon, through the castle into the grand hall, and finally up to her throne, where she seated herself with a huff. Raising the mirror she still held in a finely gloved hand, she regarded her reflection stonily for a moment before tracing a finger over the surface. The mirror clouded at her touch, and when its surface cleared once more, it reflected an image that was not the face of the woman who held it.

Queen Helen deTrois smiled.

---------------------------

It took the rest of the week for Red, his friends, and the dwarves to organize what they came to call the 'Hero Tryouts', another week before the heroes started showing up, and a third week before they were ready to truly begin. Icicle Town was practically leaking heroes out its walls; the inns and hotels were near full capacity, and the townsfolk were abuzz with gossip and curiosity. Was it true their beloved princess Snow White had really only been asleep these past ten years? Was it possible that one of these fine young men could save her from her enchanted slumber? The general climate of the town was one of hopeful, guardedly optimistic celebration.

They had set up the competition in the Spring Fields, within sight of the Glass Lighthouse. Even in the beginning weeks of December, the weather was warm and fair. The first day was not meant to be much more than an elimination round, in which each candidate would be individually interviewed. Sitting at the table which had been set up for that purpose were Red (who had known Snow the longest save for Raddy, who preferred to stay behind and guard Snow's coffin at this stage), Stolthet (the most level-headed of the more amiable dwarves), and Wolf (who was quite good at spotting lies, and who was also slightly more neutral than the other two, to make for fairer judging).

It was well into the afternoon, and while they had gone through quite a large number of candidates, there were still a goodly amount left to speak with. Red sighed at the retreating back of a handsome green-eyed blond - Daniel Spade, had been his name - and wondered if perhaps they could take a break soon. Looking down at his notes, he shuffled the pages of parchment around to a clean sheet, and then returned his gaze to the field, where the next candidate was just now walking up. This one was tall, brunette, and the polished armor he wore on his arms and legs gleamed in the afternoon sun, while his bare, well-tanned chest gleamed in an altogether different way.

Red did a double-take. He could feel his jaw clench as the man drew closer, and he was out-and-out glaring by the time he stepped up to the table.

"Name?" Wolf inquired in a bored tone. The novelty of this activity had worn off long ago, and he was itching to get up and stretch his legs with a walk.

"Neil Gei-"

"No."

There was a pause, in which everyone looked at Red, confused.

"Excuse me?" Neil said, blinking uncertainly at Red, who was still glaring at him.

"No. No, no, no, no, and, just in case you didn't hear me the first time, _no._"

"Um…why?" Stolthet asked curiously.

"Because he's a womanizing whore-son who rescues damsels in distress in order to have sex with them and then abandons them once he's taken their virginity," Red spat. As he spoke, Neil stared at him in confused puzzlement, then in dawning recognition. He did a double-take.

"Red Reaper?" he asked, incredulous.

"What?" Red asked, leaning back on his stool and crossing his arms. He somehow managed to glare up at Neil in such a way that it appeared he was looking down his nose at him.

"What in the seven hells are _you_ doing here?" Neil demanded, incredulous.

"Trying to save one of my best friends from a cursed eternal slumber and set her up with the Happily Ever After she deserves. Which is nothing _you_ can help with," Red explained patiently.

"'Best friend?' You're the one who cursed her in the first place!" Neil retorted.

"It was the unwitting action of a friend who thought he was bestowing a gift upon another," Stolthet spoke up, pushing his stool back and standing, bringing his face level with Neil's.

"A likely story. This bastard would lie to his own grandmother if he thought he'd get something out of it! Do you know he used to go about pretending he was a girl to seduce men? I have to say I'm surprised to see he's dropped the act, but he's old enough now to know better--"

"That's quite enough of that," Wolf interrupted, pushing his own stool back and standing. Red glanced at him in surprise, and was a little shocked to see how angry he looked. Neil seemed to mistake the meaning of Wolf's irritation, because he said,

"Tricked you as well, did he? Believe me, I know how you feel--"

"He did, but I discovered my mistake quickly enough. But that's not what I meant. What I meant was, I think you need to leave now."

"Oh yes? And who's going to make me? You?"

"If I have to," Wolf said shortly.

"I can't believe you're taking his word over mine!" Neil seemed to deflate slightly, but was continuing on valiantly nonetheless.

"I've known him for over ten years. I haven't even known you for ten minutes. Of course I'm taking his word over yours," Wolf said.

And then suddenly, right out of the blue, all attention was diverted from the confrontation at hand (which ticked off Neil to no end) by one single word.

"Sammiches!"

Red let out a girlish, blood-curdling scream and dove under the table. While it might be a strange sight for the heroes waiting in line (and Neil certainly didn't enjoy the sound of a grown man shrieking so loudly near his ears), for those who had been involved with the Hero Tryouts since day one, it was nothing new. Over the course of the weeks they'd been working together, Lat had developed a habit of suddenly and with almost no warning tackling Red in a very friendly, if somewhat bone-crushing, hug. Usually Azrael was nearby as well, and would join in at Lat's request, which added a whole new dimension of pain for Red. The only warning Red ever received before such an attack was Lat shouting the word 'sammich'.

This time, however, the blue-clad blond was carrying an actual plate of sandwiches in his hands. He looked at the trembling table (due to Red being under it), utterly perplexed.

"What's his problem?" he inquired of the others, steadfastly ignoring Neil, who was making an arse of himself by waving arms about like a ninny. He set the plate down on the table and Stolthet, who was feeling utterly famished, immediately swiped one of the sandwiches. Wolf looked curiously at the offered food, surprised out of his earlier anger, and wondered if it was safe to ingest. Whatever Lat had used as spread was dripping out of the sides and seemed to have the consistency of mud…

Stolthet took a large bite out of the strange-looking sandwich and chewed enthusiastically. "Mmm…mud sandwich," he said, smiling as he chewed. Wolf felt ready to throw up whatever remained of his breakfast (leftover blueberry pie, ironically).

"Disgusting!" he stated. Lat wrinkled his nose and sniffed indignantly.

"Beggin' yer pardon?" The blond dwarf made a kicked puppy face and aimed it at the silver-haired man, who was starting to turn a little green. "But, but, but…I worked really hard on those!" Lat wailed, sniffling. "The only thing I know how t'make is mud sammi—"

"Objection!" Wolf interjected, slamming his hands suddenly on the table. He raised an accusing finger at Lat. Neil, still watching the proceedings, wondered if he and the man in leather were ever going to get back to business at hand. He had his pride to defend after all, and he didn't have all day. Wolf, of course, was too busy pointing things out about the 'mud sandwiches'. "Therein lies the problem! I know you dwarves love the earth and all—but _mud sandwiches_?!"

The two dwarves stared at him, dumbfounded for a brief moment, before they finally understood what he was getting at and laughed together in humorous realization. Wolf actually thought that Lat's little snack was made out of mud!

"Aye, Wolf-me-lad…ye crack me up!"

"It's hazel spread, Wolf," Red spoke up from beneath the table. His voice sounded somewhat muffled, as though his mouth were full of something. Wolf looked down to see if he could catch a glimpse of the baker, but had no such luck. "You should try one, I think you'd like it," Red continued after a moment, his voice clearer for having swallowed. Apparently he'd snatched one of Lat's 'sammiches' when no one had been looking. "They're actually quite good, even if they do look like shi-"

"EXCUSE ME!" Neil all but bellowed, bringing his fist down onto the table and causing the remaining sandwiches to take briefly to the air. Wolf, Stolthet, and Lat all glared at him.

"You don't have to hang around anymore, now that Red's vetoed you. You're free to go," Wolf said, raising his eyebrow and eyeing the other man with thinly veiled distain.

"Like hell I will!" Neil countered, glaring right back at Wolf. "I refuse to be refused by that cross-dressing little weasel. I've just as much right as anyone else to participate!"

"Actually, we've already vetoed about half the candidates we've interviewed," Stolthet spoke up. "It's not like ye're the first. We have certain standards for our Snow, and not just anyone is going to be able to meet them. And I'm vetoing ye because ye seem to have a very volatile temper. If we wanted to find Snow an angry husband, we'd just have her marry Vrede."

"Stolthet!" Lat protested softly, before Wolf spoke up again.

"And _I_ am vetoing you as well. Based on your lousy fashion sense. Honestly, you have enough money to purchase all that armor, but are too poor to pay for a decent shirt?"

"Like you're one to talk," Neil retorted. "It looks like what _you_ were able to afford got shrunk in the wash. Don't you have anything bigger?"

Wolf smirked and put his hands on his hips, brushing aside the folds of his jacket as he did so in order to more fully emphasize the exposed skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his britches. "I do, but Red tells me so often how fabulous I look in this shirt, I can't bring myself to wear anything else."

At this statement, Neil's eyes bugged and he made a choking noise, similar to the choking noise that was audible from beneath the table, where Red was still snacking and listening to the confrontation safely out of sight. He wanted to protest that he most certainly had never _once_ said that to Wolf (even if he had thought so in his most private of private thoughts from time to time), but his mouth was full of hazel-spread sandwich at the moment, so he couldn't.

"You're…you're a real bastard!" Neil declared loudly, pointing a gloved finger at Wolf's face. Feeling as he was called, Wolf playfully bit the digit in front of him, much to the warrior's utter horror. The brunet shrieked and shook his finger about as if he had been bitten by some foul, diseased beast. Wolf smirked.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said. The hero's eyes narrowed at him and he, unwisely, pointed his finger accusingly at the man in leather once more. One had to wonder at the wisdom of such an action, but heroes rarely ever think things through when striking poses in front of would-be adversaries, so perhaps it was only to be expected. Wolf vaguely wondered if his mother had ever done such a thing in her youth, back in the day…

"Grr…just who do you think you are to insult me in such a manner?" Neil demanded, face red from anger and embarrassment. The silver-haired man regarded the armor-clad hero a moment, his expression completely neutral as he considered his options before selecting one. The corner of his lip turning up a little he made a sweeping, theatrical bow as he gave his introduction.

"Forgive me, hero, for not introducing myself," he said in a rather magnanimous manner that no one at the judge's table was quite used to seeing. "I am known in some circles simply as The Big Bad Wolf, however…as infamous as that name is, it is nothing in comparison to my true name."

Neil snorted. "Oh? And what, pray tell, is this _grand_ name of yours?" the hero sneered, crossing his arms. Red moved out from his hiding place under the table, curious to know his constant shadow's full name as, in their decade-long acquaintance, he had no idea what Wolf's last name was. Wolf let out a chuckle, as if he knew a secret no one else did.

"My name is Wolf Loosestrife; a pleasure to meet you, _good hero_." The last part was said with all the sarcasm the wolfish man could muster. In that single instant, Wolf looked tranquil, but in a feral sort of way. He looked dangerous; like his namesake, ready to pounce, sleek, proud and powerful, upon his unwary prey. Red had never seen him like this before, and he was both chilled and in awe; not a combination he'd ever thought he would feel regarding the scruffy-looking man in black leather.

But that feeling was short lived when a sort of goofy grin spread across the older man's face as he placed a hand on Neil's shoulder, giving the plate there a friendly pat.

"And now that you know my name," Wolf said nonchalantly to Neil, who looked as though his jaw would have fallen clean off had it not been attached securely to his skull, "do kindly _fuck off_."

Neil didn't need to be told twice, and ran off with his tail between his legs. For the hell of it, Stolthet threw a treacle muffin he had handy at the retreating man's head, forever endearing himself to Red and causing string of curses to fly from the man's mouth as he tripped and fell on top of an unfortunate hero in a red coat waiting in line (who, consequently, started beating up on Neil when he accused him of being blind _and_ short).

Happily satisfied that the unworthy hero was gone, Wolf sat himself down and casually took up a mud sandwich, which he discovered didn't taste nearly as bad as it looked. It was downright tasty and even had a small hint of cocoa in it to give it some real flavor. Hadn't Lat said he made these sandwiches himself? Probably he had been the one to whip up the spread. Perhaps he should ask, since Red had mentioned them tasting good himself and wondered if he might tempt him with one at a later date…

Wolf turned to ask Lat, but was distracted by the stares he was receiving. He raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"_Loosestrife!?_" Red asked incredulously, staring at Wolf in disbelief.

"Er...yeah?"

"As in _Wolfgang Loosestrife_, the evil overlord who very nearly destroyed the entire civilized world over sixty years ago?" Stolthet added, his own voice reflecting his surprise.

"Uh, no. As in _Wolf_ Loosestrife, aimless drifter, expert gambler, and hopeless romantic," Wolf said.

"But...but..._Loosestrife._" Red couldn't seem to quite come to terms with that revelation.

Wolf shrugged. "Yeah." He seemed a little confused by Red's confusion.

"Ye must be related somehow," Stolthet said, having recovered from his surprise a lot faster than Red was managing. "It's not exactly a common name, ye know."

Wolf grimaced. "Ah, well...I don't like to parade it around, but...well, he's sort of my father."

"You're the son of an evil overlord!?" Red demanded. If it was true, that certainly explained all the stalking, the deviously clever disguises, the constant sexual harassment, the unlooked for rescues from Certain Doom, the tender, one might say even _loving_ kisses, stolen when he'd had his guard down, the -- Red shook his head to disrupt that line of thought. Luckily, Wolf answered before he could become even more confused and annoyed with himself.

"_Ex_-evil overlord," Wolf said. "He settled down over thirty years ago with my mom, and they had me, and he's been living quietly and peacefully ever since." _Most of the time_, he mentally added, _when he's not tearing up the countryside looking for me or mom._

"Ye don't like t' parade it around, but ye sure didn't seem t' mind lettin' off with it just then," Stolthet pointed out, gesturing in the direction where Neil had disappeared.

Wolf looked embarrassed. "Sometimes it's just easier than getting in a fight, you know? They always back down when I tell them my name."

Stolthet raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh," he said. He didn't sound disparaging or judgmental, simply thoughtful.

"Excuse me! Are you gentlemen going to continue anytime soon, or shall I just stand here all day and rot?" interrupted the short blond man who had beat the snot out of Neil when he'd run into him a few minutes ago.

"Yes! Of course! My apologies," Stolthet said smoothly, turning to address the latest applicant.

The Hero Tryouts proceeded fairly smoothly after that, though Red found his mind wandering more often than before. Specifically to the leather-clad man seated right next to him. They had known each other for over ten years now, and in that time Red had not bothered to find out anything more than he absolutely had to about his silver-haired stalker. Only in the past year had that begun to change, though he wasn't sure if it was because Wolf was doing something different or because he was. This past month spent in close proximity with him had been...well, he had to be honest with himself _sometime_ - the past month, seeing him and talking with him daily, had been _pleasant._ Completely the opposite of his expectations. He was slowly building a proper friendly relationship with Wolf, and he was enjoying the process.

However nice that process was, though, it was also leaving him open to quite a bit of doubt and regret. Why in the world hadn't he opened up to Wolf sooner? His natural stubbornness hadn't permitted him, of course; he had made up his mind at fifteen that Wolf was not someone he would ever allow into his life, and had made good on that decision until circumstances (and two annoyingly fruity fairies) had forced him to reconsider this year.

Thinking about it logically, and ignoring all the bad feelings and his own willful stubbornness, it was utterly, completely ridiculous that he had known Wolf for so many years and had only just today discovered the identity of the man's father. Worse than that, though, was the fact that it hadn't been Red who had asked about it. Whenever they were together, Wolf always seemed to reveal things about himself to other people because _they_ had taken the time to ask, and Red only found out due to his proximity at the time.

And the thing was, starting from the masquerade, or even perhaps a little before that in the forest outside of Tempus, he had slowly begun to like Wolf, though he hadn't been able to admit that to himself at the time. Now, though, he felt he knew three things; one, that he was beginning to feel utterly awful for being such an ass to Wolf these past ten years, when Wolf had only ever been nice to him. Two, that he wanted to make amends somehow, and get to know Wolf better, and three, that the next time Wolf revealed an important fact about himself to Red, it would be because Red had asked him, and not anyone else.


	16. Raddy the Brown

Apple's Note: Sorry for the loooong delay, loves, but we needed to do an overhaul of chapter 16. So we replaced the old chapter 16 with this newer, shinier, more Raddy-related chapter 16. Don't worry. We'll be updating more soon! =D And the old chapter 16 will now be chapter 18. I know it's a bit confusing, but the next chapter is also Raddy related. So the old chapter 16 will now be 18. Or 17. Whichever happens. Okay? Okay. Good. Keep on going!

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**CHAPTER 16**

Raddy the Brown

In an ideal world everything would be absolutely perfect. In such a world the hero tryouts would have gone smoothly without a hitch, and the one person who was meant for Snow White would have already emerged, kissed her awake, and then whisked her off to a shining castle far, far away so they could live happily ever after. And, most importantly, in an ideal world, Raddy wouldn't be in love with his sister.

Snow and Raddy were siblings through marriage and name and nothing more. Still, it was socially frowned upon for step-siblings to be involved with each other romantically, especially if they had been raised together from an early age. So Raddy never said a word, beyond the occasional self-narration that let slip how he really felt. But he was getting better at controlling those random instances where he said everything he thought and did aloud for everybody to hear, so few knew of his infatuation and even fewer remembered it.

The world was a strange place indeed, but it would have to be to create a muddy fairy like Radamanthus, son of Carabosse, better known by the name of the Wicked Fairy (or Wicked, for short), whose life was to be part of one big fairytale...

Once upon a time, a dangerous and unkind fairy fell in love with an intelligent, beautiful woman...

...Though even as fairy tales went, Raddy's was an odd one.

His mother was the Lady Helen deTrois, a sorceress from a good family in the northern part of Tempus. Helen was a cousin of the Tourneurs, the ruling family of the kingdom, which made her eligible for the throne--if only her cousins were to topple over and die. Of course, when Queen Margaret's elder brother (she was the middle child of three), Desmond had been assassinated in an untraceable manner, Helen had been the prime suspect. The crime stunk of very powerful magic, as there was no mark or any traces of the murder.

Given the circumstances, of course Helen was the prime suspect - it was no secret that she was very much talented in the arcane arts, so no one believed her when she pleaded her innocence when accused of Desmond's murder. And it certainly hadn't helped when the Wicked Fairy had come to help her plead her case. However, there wasn't enough evidence to substantiate a solid case against the woman, and nobody really wanted to get on the purple fairy's nerves for fear of him casting a nasty curse onto their unsuspecting kingdom. So in the end, Helen was acquitted and they let it go.

This was how Raddy's mother and father first met. It had been sheer chance, as his fae father had merely been passing through Tempus and had witnessed Helen's unfair trial in progress. Later he had explained to his young son that humans were indeed very strange creatures, and described such oddities as Helen sitting on one side of a very large scale, a duck, and some logs floating in a large cauldron filled with water. There had also been something about fake noses, but Raddy had been so young when his father had told him these stories, it might have just been his memories being blown out of proportion by his boyish point of view.

Raddy had been told you couldn't find a pair more in love than his parents, but after a while, their conflicting personalities and interests drove them apart. Helen, despite being a sorceress, only used her powers sparingly and only for good deeds. His father, on the other hand, cast curses about as though they were seeds, and did rather unsavory things on whims too radical and random to keep track of. It had been the last straw when the purple fairy had cursed Princess Briar Tourneur when Bartolby and Margaret had 'forgotten' to invite to invite them to the royal child's christening.

Wicked and Helen had parted ways; both would possess nothing of the other, but an enchanted mirror and a child who was very much a literal mix of both of his parents. Helen took custody over their child without any argument, raising him on her own until, one day, she would come across a king in a land of snow who needed her as much as she thought she needed him...

And this, dear reader, was how Raddy the Brown came to meet Snow White.

---------------

"Hey! Mask Face!"

Raddy ignored them, his agitation at being called names shown only in how rigid and stiff his brown butterfly wings were.

"Hey, Dirt Clod! I'm talking to you! Pay attention when your superiors are talking to you!"

It had been years since Raddy had attended Clementine's fairy daycare at the Fae Forest and longer still since leaving said forest to live properly with his mother and father…now just his mother since she had left his father a few years back. They were to live in Saison, although Raddy would be permitted to live elsewhere, should he want to, if palace life seemed too uncomfortable for him. His mother had married into the White family, becoming the next queen and step-mother to the young princess, Snow White. Helen had left him in an inn in Icicle Town to get all the preparations smoothed over at the palace for him, as they'd never entertained the company of a fairy before (even a half, like him). Today would be the day he would be introduced to his new family, and he had gotten himself cleaned up for the occasion.

He had never expected to run into Rumpelstiltskin and his crew in this part of the continent.

"Whatcha all dolled up for Mud For Brains? Doncha know trying to look all pretty won't cover up the fact you're a useless brown fairy?" Rumpel asked, a sneer on his face. Raddy continued to ignore him, his long ears burning and twitching slightly from the insult. His mother had always told him to ignore idiots like these, but it was getting rather hard, what with the orange Fae naught but a few feet away from him, practically shouting in his sensitive ears. The young man wondered how Rumpel always knew how to find him—brown wasn't an exceptionally eye catching color. Then again, it was rare for a fairy to have his unique colorings, so his butterfly wings, which spanned quite a few feet from his back, stuck out like a sore thumb.

His mother said Rumpel was just jealous. Raddy didn't believe her. His father said it was because Rumpel was a trumped-up little prat who was only able to feel good about himself when putting down others. Raddy was slightly more inclined to believe that.

Not that it helped much.

"He-ey, Muddy, you got dirt in your ears, too? Hel-lo!"

Raddy flushed behind his plain wooden mask and clenched his fists beneath the long lacy cuffs of the shirt his mother had forced him into. He wanted to run back up to his room to hide, but his mother had told him very firmly to wait in the inn's rich lobby and not to stir an inch from where she had left him.

"Aw, this is boring, Boss," one of Rumpel's two minions whined.

"Yeah! 'E never does anything, just sits and stares at us with that ugly mask..."

"Better an ugly mask than an ugly heart," a new voice interrupted, startling all four Fae. A young girl, perhaps eleven or twelve, appeared as if out of nowhere. She was the prettiest girl Raddy had ever seen, with coal black hair and large, mahogany-colored eyes. Her delicate features were still child-like, but held the promise of great beauty.

The illusion of innocence was shattered when she kicked Rumpelstiltskin in the knee with the hard toe of her boot.

The idea of a perfect stranger willing to stand up for him and so boldly oppose his life-long tormenter momentarily stunned Raddy. It also stunned Rumpelstiltskin and his two cronies, which was fortunate for the girl, because it gave Raddy just enough time to recover from his shock, grab her about the waist, and get the hell out of the inn before Rumpel could work out how to retaliate.

"Here they come!" she called energetically, almost gleefully, as Raddy ran, barefoot as always, into the snowy streets of Saison. Grimacing under his mask, his wings snapped open with barely a thought and he took to the air. The girl in his arms whooped in delight as he leapt aloft, entirely unafraid.

"Hush!" he admonished, his voice harder than he'd intended, colored by uncertainty and horror. He could hear Rumpelstiltskin shouting insults and declaring vengeance not far behind him. If they had any hope at all of hiding from the orange bully, they would have to get out of sight first and remain very quiet afterwards.

The girl seemed unrepentant, unfazed by his tone, but did as he asked. Raddy found himself wishing longingly for the deep green and brown of the Fae Forest where he had spent much of his time as a child. Hiding from his tormenters was much easier when he blended in with the scenery, which was impossible in this city of stone and snow and ice.

"He darts here and there, searching for a hiding place, but lost in an unfamiliar city. The pretty girl held safely in his arms-"

"Um...what are you doing?"

Raddy flushed beneath his mask. His habit of muttering an ongoing dialogue had begun when he was young and playing by himself in the woods. None of the other young Fae his age wanted to play with the ugly brown fairy, and it was lonely with no friendly voices around. What had begun as a desperate defence against loneliness had developed into an unconscious habit, harmless enough but considered somewhat odd by those few friends he'd managed to make.

"Sorry," he said in lieu of an explanation.

Behind him, Rumpelstiltskin shouted angrily, and the girl - who could see quite well over his shoulder as he flew - gasped. That was all the warning he had before he was knocked hard with a compact sphere of orange, citrus-y sparkles. The overpowering scent made his eyes water, and worse, the magic the orange Fae had flung at him fouled his wings, sticking to them and rendering flight impossible.

The girl in his arms seemed to sense the inevitable plummet even as Raddy did. Rumpelstiltskin had flung that same spell at him often enough when they'd been younger, and Raddy's only defense against it had been to avoid it. If he wasn't quick enough, it would stick to his wings, rendering flight impossible until either his mother or father could come along and remove it. For all the magic both his parents possessed, Raddy had inherited very little. His only Fae skills had to do with the earth and the creatures which lived upon it; offensive and defensive magic was beyond his reach, much to the private despair of his father.

Instead of screaming and possibly flailing, as he'd expect of a young, apparently genteelly bred girl, the one in his arms simply gasped and clung tighter to him as they started to fall from the sky. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a drop - only ten feet or so, as Raddy had been darting about only a little ways above the heads of the astonished townsfolk who'd witnessed the chase. But the speed he'd been going before Rumpelstiltskin had fouled his wings promised a painful landing indeed, cushion of snow or no. So he curled around the girl as best he could to protect her from the worst of the imminent impact clenched his teeth in preparation himself

"Oof!'

'Oof'? No 'thud'? No 'bam'? Just...'oof'? And it hadn't even come from him or his young charge either, but, rather, the person that had just caught him and the little girl as if they weighed nothing. Granted, the landing wasn't exactly very pleasant though. His back stung a little where lithe arms had caught him, but he imagined it was probably worse for his rescuer.

"My, my, my. I run off to find a princess and I end up saving a fairy instead," said a fine, cultured voice filled with soft amusement. Raddy had to force his eyes open (he had closed them in order to brace himself for the inevitable impact upon the cold, snow covered ground) so he could see who was speaking through the holes of his mask and was temporarily stunned. He had never seen one before, but the genteel face and the soft smile and the amused, twinkling blue eyes spoke volumes. As well as his pointed ears.

"You're a...you're a...you're an elf," Raddy stated rather unnecessarily. The fairy would have smacked himself for making such an obvious statement and was privately glad for the mask that hid his face, for he was sure he was wearing a very stupefied expression. However, the brown-haired elf took no offence to this and just smiled angelically down at him.

"Azzie! You saved us!" The little girl in his arms said, sounding very happy and pleased. She looked no worse for the wear, despite the chase and the impromptu fall which would have shaken most young maidens her age. Raddy wasn't sure whether or not he should be pleased by this, for, after all, she wasn't hurt, but she had been the cause for all of this commotion.

The two of them were put down onto their feet and Raddy was able to get a good look at this 'Azzie'. He had a slim figure--much too slim for someone who had caught a teenaged fairy along with a small human girl. Perhaps, he thought, elves were just naturally strong, but it seemed to him that the other male could be snapped like a twig for he looked so...so...delicate. The muddy fairy wondered if all elves were like that. All beautiful with soft-looking hair and a kind face to rival an angel's. It made him feel a little self-conscious and he tugged nervously at his shirt sleeves.

"Azzie! There were mean fairies chasing us!" The pretty little girl next to him said loudly, breaking Raddy out of his reverie

"Oh, are there?" the elf responded, his gaze immediately turning to the skies. Raddy turned to look too, and was both relieved and puzzled when he saw Rumpelstiltskin and his followers had vanished, giving up on the chase. "They seem to be gone, now," the elf - Azzie? That couldn't be his proper name! - continued. Raddy thought he sounded disappointed, and was surprised and confused a moment later when he began to pout. But then he turned back to the young girl and the brown fairy, and his expression dissolved into one of delight.

"But you've managed to hang on to the nice one, I see! You must be Radamanthus!"

Raddy was taken aback that the elf knew his name.

"I...er...um...yes," he stammered, feeling once again out of place and very, very grateful for the screen of his mask.

"It is delightful to meet you, my lad! My name is Azrael! And I'm sure little Snow has already introduced herself to you?"

Raddy blinked and stared at the girl, who fidgeted and blushed.

"I was going to!" she said defensively, staring at Azrael with wide eyes. She then turned back to Raddy and bobbed a practiced curtsey, graceful even though she wore black wool trousers instead of skirts. "My name is Snow White, but everyone just calls me Snow," she told the astonished youth.

"It's...it's very nice to meet you," Raddy managed to say, though his voice was somewhat wooden. Snow White didn't seem to notice, and neither did Azrael, who suddenly and unexpectedly swept them both into a nearly bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so happy!" he exclaimed. "I'm sure we'll all be very good friends now, right?" he asked, releasing them both and beaming first into Snow's face, then into Raddy's. "Now that that's all settled, why don't we all go to the palace together?"

Raddy would learn later that most fairies were raised listening to horror stories about elves - the two races had had some feud in the distant past which had resulted in each having an intense dislike for the other. Fairy mothers told naughty children terrifying tales of what would happen to them if they didn't behave; the elves would come to get them while they slept, and they'd never see their homes or loved ones again. Raddy, having been born to a human mother and an unconventional fairy father, had never had any of those tales told to him as a youngster, and as such had no fear of elves. Unlike Rumpelstiltskin and his friends, who had fled in terror, vengeance forgotten, when they'd spotted Azrael.

As for Azrael, he did not share the dislike others of his race held for the Fae; in fact, he quite liked them, though he'd never had any opportunity to befriend one until Raddy had come along.

All of this was inconsequential to young Raddy at the time, however, because his thoughts were occupied neither with the mysterious disappearance of his orange antagonist nor with the odd vagaries of Elven/Fae lore. His thoughts were much more locally focused. Specifically, on the dark-haired girl walking cheerfully by his side.

The girl who had stood up for him with no thought to her own wellbeing, simply because it had been the right thing to do.

The girl who was, he now knew, five years younger than he, and destined to be his step-sister.

The girl he knew he would be in love with for the rest of his life.

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Raddy's world was falling apart.

He was twenty, single, had no girlfriend to speak of, his father was a complete psycho and his mother wasn't too far off and, to top it all off, he had been born a brown fairy of all things.

But, oddly enough, these were not the sources of his woe. Oh, no. What got him was far more sinister than his father being one of the most notorious 'villains' to ever grace the land. It was too different in comparison to his mother being a powerful sorceress accused of the murder of her cousin, who would have been the future king had he lived. Nope. His problem was no horrible, so terrible that he was even sure it would make the Wicked Fairy's hair go absolutely white.

He had caught Snow naked. Again.

Living with the girl he had a crush on (which steadily grew into a sort of infatuation as the years went by) had been no easy task for the lad of fifteen then and now twenty. And the crown princess of Saison hadn't made it easy on him as well. He had found out that the dark-haired little girl had a penchant for danger--and a disturbing lack of survival instincts. Not that she ever came out of all of those close scrapes not alive, mind you, but Snow White had a peculiar ability to have every single bad thing that could happen to her to actually happen. It was mind boggling.

But, somehow, he had grown used to getting his neck into constant danger for the sole purpose of keeping an eye on his new little step-sister. What had been really hard on him, oddly, was the fact that the girl had no sense of personal space, especially that of others. She was undoubtedly affectionate with those she loved and had no qualms about slipping into someone else's bed (which led to Raddy wearing his underwear at least to bed and to lock the door--twice) to spend the night. Just to sleep innocently in that person's arms, of course. Nothing dirty, and shame on the person who thought to do such things.

Which, of course, meant 'shame on him'.

The muddy fairy discovered that the princess had a very unique mentality and had a different view on things. Like locking her door; she always kept it unlocked and had all of her windows wide open and her balcony doors thrown wide, not caring if some vagabond came by to snatch her away. But what always got him was her lack of self-image. In other words: Snow dressed and presented herself as she pleased. And as she considered herself the younger sibling of Raddy (which pained him to no end) she thought she could be in any state of dress around. And that included being naked.

Poor Raddy could only scream and run off in the opposite direction, hoping to get as far away from the tempting sight of his step sister completely without any clothing. It was a bloody nightmare at times.

And this was exactly why he had 'moved out', away from the royal palace of Saison where he had always felt out of place anyways. Raddy had found his own little peaceful hide-away in the Sleeping Forest, years ago, where the only thing that could disturb his thoughts was the occasional squirrel...and a cute little boy in a cheerful little red hood.

The little boy had been lonely and grieving from the loss of his parents, and didn't care at all that Raddy was brown. All he had wanted was a playmate, and Raddy, giddy at discovering a new person besides Snow and Azrael who was willing to accept him as he was, was more than happy to become that playmate.

It didn't take long for the little boy to recover from his grief after he met Raddy. The two played together every day, and eventually, once little Red was a bit older, Raddy took him to Saison to meet his step-sister. They were the same age, and they had bonded instantly, and all three took to playing together regularly. At first only during the daytime - Raddy would take Red home to his grandmother in the evening - but as they all got older, Red began spending more time away from home, and began spending several days at a time in Saison.

Growing up, Raddy had never dreamed he would ever make a single friend, let alone three. And he had a special relationship with Red in particular. Just as Snow had been his first ever friend, he had been Red's. He knew what it was like to be in Snow's position as well as Red's. Therefore, he felt a special sort of loyalty to Red, just as he could tell Red felt a strong loyalty to him.

Raddy looked at the little calendar he kept on the kitchen counter, broken from his musings as he witness the first coming of winter outside his little tree house home. Sometimes his cottage in the trees was a little lonely, but his father lived nearby (in case he got into trouble) and his mother was just a hand mirror call away (although the small mirror was so girly in its bubblegum pink design he was sometimes too embarrassed to use it to call his mother).

The young man of twenty realized that it was only early November, though snow was already beginning to fall, creating a soft blanket of cold fluff on the earth. Saison would be extremely cold this time of year with winds that could bite someone through their winter coats. However, he was overdue for a family visit to the ice and snow country beloved by his step sister. He had been spending a bit of extra time away from his mother and sister--longer than he was used to. Two months had passed since he last saw the Snow Castle near Icicle Town and when he had left his mother had been acting rather peculiar. She was...distant...and more than a little...manic?

But Raddy had simply written it off as stress due to running a wintery kingdom.

Raddy prepared to leave for Saison, packing a few things into a sack, somewhat disappointed he couldn't bring his little baker friend with him. Red, as far as he knew, was still currently on a month-long errand for his infamous godmother in Hamlin, concerning the disappearances of some of the local children. He had moved out of his grandmother's rather recently and often got lonesome, so Raddy visited often to make sure he was doing alright (hence why he hadn't seen his family in a while).

The flight to Saison from the Sleeping Forest never took very long, except in terrible weather. Even though Raddy lacked the powerful sorcery of both his mother and father, he had plenty of fairy magic, which aided him in flight, quickening his path and speeding his way. It was cold in Saison, and cold above the clouds where he flew to travel there, but again, Raddy's small abilities with fairy magic kept him warm where others might have frozen.

Upon arrival at the palace, the first person to greet him - as usual - was his step-sister, Snow White. Beautiful even as a child, at fifteen she was just entering into the fullness of womanhood, and was truly the most beautiful creature Raddy had ever beheld.

Which was why he always had mixed feelings when she greeted him by throwing her arms around his neck, squealing in delight, and pressing her slender, soft body tightly against his own as she hugged him tightly. As a brother, it was a wonderful greeting. But as a brother in love with his sister, it was...to put it delicately...bloody awkward.

"Raddy! I missed you so much! You haven't visited in so long!" Snow exclaimed, drawing away slightly and beaming up into his mask-covered face. "Come say hi to Momma! She'll be happy to see you too!" Without even giving him time to collect his violently scattered thoughts, she took his hand and tugged him along with her back into the palace. But since she brought up the subject of their mother his feeble mind managed to latch onto the topic, letting him form something of a coherent sentence.

"...'And mother?' the brown fairy asked worriedly, frowning behind his mask. 'How has she been these last few months?' he added curiously, a hint of worry in his tone as he looked down at the lovely girl pulling him further and further into the white-walled palace..."

There was a bit of silence between brother and sister as Snow blinked up at Raddy in quiet surprise and the fairy tried to process exactly what he had said to cause such a reaction. This would happen more than once whenever the two were within talking distance of one another, but Snow had heard him speak this way enough to recover quickly and point out his peculiar speech pattern, which would knock some sense into the nonsensical fairy.

"Big brother, you're doing it again," the princess stated, rolling her grey eyes and resuming her tugging. "But since you're worried about Momma, well..." The girl hesitated, sparking more than just a little bit of concern. Snow was as pure as her name entailed, which also meant that she could tell no lies (well, she did, but she was terrible at telling them without giving herself away) and was as honest as they came (for her lies were as transparent as glass, so she had learned to just be forthright with everyone). So when she didn't come out with what was bothering her right away it made Raddy feel more than a little bothered himself.

"Snow...what's wrong?" he inquired gently. They had stopped walking, halting right in the middle of one of the many halls spanning the large castle in the land of snow. One of the reasons why Raddy had left was that he easily got lost in such closed-in places like these, where everything looked just the same to him. Perhaps it was his connection to nature that pulled him towards the greener pastures in the Spring Fields or the Fae Forest near the Kingdom of Abel, messing up his perceptions in this man-made dwelling--or he just had a bad memory, in any case--he'd moved out, not wanting to give anyone any trouble. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Snow nodded, understanding. "I know...but it's just...It might be just me...though..."

"Snow..." Raddy loosened his hand from his step sister's grip and placed both of his hands on her small shoulders. He found that they weren't a poor fit for his hands; so soft and small they were...focus! Raddy was vaguely disgusted with himself for feeling attracted to his sibling like this, but there was nothing for it. "Please...if there is something wrong with mother...I have to know. I can't help with anything, if you don't tell me what's on your mind."

The princess smiled softly at him, making his heart flutter a bit at the sight of it. He had to swallow and, once again, thank that dratted Rumpelstiltskin for the existence of his mask. He was sure his face was an embarrassing tomato red. "Well, you see...Momma...she's been..." The girl fought for the right words, her lips twisting into a tiny pout. "...Momma's been...distance."

Raddy quietly chuckled to himself. "The word is 'distant', Snow."

The little royal really pouted that time as he laughed at her unique little speech impediment. She had a habit of knowing what to say, but somehow saying the wrong word that sounded nearly identical to the one she wanted to say.

"Anyways...Momma's not been herself lately and it's kind of scary. She had someone beheaded the other day!"

The muddy fairy's long ears twitched at this piece of news. Beheaded? Helen? His mother?

"Surely you're joking."

"Shirley, I'm not," Snow replied, frowning. "Momma's never done that before. Most of the time she just throws people into the dungeon or slaps a fine on someone and then laughs about it later, you know? Like it's nothing too bad a little community service won't fix or something...But recently...Momma's been acting..."

"Acting what?" Raddy urged.

"...Like she's not herself."

The two fell silent once again, standing awkwardly with each other as this information set in. Raddy couldn't quite believe that his mother would actually order someone's beheading. Even the most gravest of crime would only be sentenced to a lifelong stay in the castle dungeon, but no one had ever earned such a punishment before. The most he had ever seen or heard from the fair queen was, perhaps, a hefty fine that could be easily paid out in community service. The criminal gets out of jail time or an even heavier penalty and it also helps the community by giving a free hand. Everyone--generally--wins. Helen was a sound thinker and preferred practicality over a show of power, which she had in spades. It was once said that she and Wicked once got into one colossal fight that resulted in the destruction of the land east of Wicked's castle, creating the lava-covered wasteland currently known as Hell's Pit. However, Wicked could get on the nerves of Kiwi herself, so it was a rare, sort-of fluke that had lead to the creation of such a horrific place. Helen would never do something so terrible unless greatly provoked...

"Let's go," Raddy said, indicating that Snow should continue leading him to their mother. Beneath his mask, his jaw was set and his expression grim. He had no idea what he would do or say to Helen deTrois, but he knew he would have to do something. Hopefully he could figure out what that something would be as he went along...

Nodding dutifully, Snow White once again took his hand in her own and began walking once more, her steps purposeful and resolute. Raddy would make things better. He was her big brother, after all. That was what big brothers did.

Helen was absent from the throne room, which was the first place Snow and Raddy checked. She wasn't in the garden or the kitchens either, two other places she had a habit of retreating to when the whim struck her. Finally, they found her alone in her chambers, where she greeted them with all the appearances of delighted enthusiasm.

"Radamanthus! What a pleasant surprise!" she said, sweeping grandly towards them and enfolding Raddy in her embrace, making him wonder at his little sister's horrifying story. Had he not known Snow was not the type to lie, he would have suspected her of telling tales. He returned his mother's hug and greeting.

"It's good to see you, Momma," he said.

"Snow, dearest, would you mind leaving the two of us alone together for a while?" Helen asked, pulling away and turning to the princess. "Momma and Raddy have a lot of catching up to do."

That should have been his hint that something was very wrong - Helen would never have sent Snow away under normal circumstances. She loved having both her children by her side at all times - for she looked on Snow as her own flesh and blood, even though she was of no true relation to the girl. But despite Snow's claim that something was wrong, he didn't so much as worry about it. Perhaps there had been a good reason for the beheading - perhaps the culprit had been the worst sort of hardened criminal, raping and pillaging and murdering, with no sense of remorse or regret for lives lost and destroyed. It was rare, but such individuals did crop up from time to time, and they did have to be dealt with...

"Alright, Momma," Snow agreed easily, as unconcerned as Raddy at this somewhat unusual request. After all, Helen might have taken a harsher stance against unlawful criminals, but she would never, ever do something to hurt either of her children...

"Let's go," Raddy said, indicating that Snow should continue leading him to their mother. Beneath his mask, his jaw was set and his expression grim. He had no idea what he would do or say to Helen deTrois, but he knew he would have to do something. Hopefully he could figure out what that something would be as he went along...

Nodding dutifully, Snow White once again took up his hand in her own and began walking once more, her steps purposeful and resolute. Raddy would make things better. He was her big brother, after all. That was what big brothers did.

--------------------------------------------

He must have fallen asleep. That could have been the only explanation for the strange dream he was having. Raddy had no idea when exactly he had drifted off while in the presence of his mother—what had they been talking about?—but he remembered his eyes meeting Helen's and for a moment in time, he knew only her voice. Was it then that the dream had started? Helen's touch had been soft and tender as she stroked his hair and she quietly whispered things into his ear.

Raddy was a nobleman of some renown in his dream whose handsome, stern features brought him quite a bit of attention from the women around him. Oddly enough, he did not rejoice in this, but coolly passed any maiden who did not fit his fancy—which was pretty much all of them. He wore a crisp white shirt, a smart brown tunic with a belt and sword (that Raddy could only assume his dream self could use as he was personally rubbish with anything metal and sharp if it didn't involve cooking something, and only because little Red had taught him how to cook) and a pair of dark beige trousers tucked into _boots_. Boots! BOOTS! _BOOTS! _BOO—

The reader will have to excuse Raddy the Brown's enthusiasm concerning leather footwear as the brown fairy has rarely ever worn boots, even though he was personally quite fond of them on other people. He is comfortable enough in his sexuality to admit that, on some lads, knee-high boots looked very good and were quite dashing and handsome. The fact that he finds himself looking more then just presentable with said boots makes him absolutely ecstatic.

But that's beside the point. Please pay no attention to the fairy currently experiencing his first 'bootgasm'.

He finally came to a stop after his long trek through the castle, stopping at a plain wooden door and raising his hand to knock. The narrator would like to go back a few words and rectify something, as the door that Raddy knocked on wasn't completely plain or just wooden. For example, if it was simply plain, it would have those intricate wood patterns you'd find in the massive trunks of overly large trees at close inspection of the door. Another example was to say that it was simply wooden, but it was not, for if the door were completely wooden, then the fixings such as nails and hinges would not have been there, as they are made entirely out of metal. In which case, the door wouldn't even be a door anymore, since the main use of a door was to open and close it and without hinges and the nails holding those hinges in, the door wouldn't be able to complete its intended functions.

However, the crux of the matter is that this door is no ordinary door. It was the door to Snow White's room. Said young lady opened it, a smile coming to her red lips as she realized (a little belatedly, since she didn't recognize him at first) who it was that was knocking at her (not-so-plain) door.

"Milady," he greeted softly, sketching a bow to her. He reached out for her hand and kissed her knuckles, confusing the dark haired girl somewhat with his puzzling behaviour and his odd appearance. Not that she made comment on either thing, even though she should have. "I've come to escort you to the Spring Fields." To his inner delight she readily agreed, saying that she would love to go to the Spring Fields with him. Within minutes the young princess was dressed and bundled up to brave the colder parts of the kingdom before heading out with Raddy, her arm linked in his.

It must be noted that the two of them spent the best afternoon together ever, filled with gentle teasing and flirting and frolicking through the flower-covered fields of Saison's manufactured Spring. Raddy felt rather envious of the person he saw was playing himself in this dream. He was so together; debonair and sweet. He knew just what to say and how to treat Snow as they played together so innocently. How he often wished he could be like that with the girl he could only dream of spending forever with. This...other Raddy could readily embrace her at a moment's notice, whereas he, awkward as he was, could only barely bring himself to circle his arms around her waist when she initiated a hug with him. The dream soon turned sour for him, becoming something he resented. It wasn't fair that they were—that _he_ was bound by the ties of family and Snow White's need for a family, rather than as a man to love her the way he wished he could. He wanted to wake up from this dream.

Raddy wasn't sure how it was possible, but he slowly came to the realization that he couldn't wake up, and he started to panic! It is said that a person can control their dreams to a certain extent, as long as they are aware that they're dreaming. Raddy tried to get into control of his body to pinch himself, but he couldn't even do that. He was stuck in the state of someone who was watching and never doing...which wasn't so different from the usual circumstances, but since he would never don a pair of shoes or go anywhere without his mask, he had figured that he was dreaming...But what if he wasn't?

The dream became a literal nightmare soon after that realization.

As Snow was kneeling on the ground, picking a bouquet of flowers for their mother, she was unaware of the man slowly moving towards her, a hand on the hilt of his sword. Raddy was appalled with himself—just what was he going to do? He wasn't...No. He couldn't! No! Just then, as the sword was slowly pulled out of its scabbard, something flashed in Raddy's mind. A voice...a sweet, soothing, genteel voice, whispering poisonous words into his ear....

"_...You will go to her...Radamanthus...._" The voice said. "_...You will take her to the Spring Fields...where she will frolic and play...and when her back is turned...._" A face came to view, the owner of the sinister voice, and the brown fairy cried out his anguish, although nothing was heard. Snow was oblivious and he had been unaware of the danger they were both in.

"_You will be my huntsman, Radamanthus...when her back is turned, you will take this sword...and stab it right through her little heart._"

Helen. His mother. His mother had asked him to murder his stepsister. She had woven a spell around his mind and turned her own flesh and blood into a huntsman—her personal hitman who would kill off the last of the royal line of White and secure her as the only legal monarch. The Whites did not have many relatives and the few they did possess did not have much sway over her, and even if they were to try to reclaim the kingdom that was rightfully theirs...his mother would be more than a match for them. But why...why? Why would she do this to her own children?!

He was tall, so when he stood behind the oblivious princess his shadow completely blocked all light from her view. Curious, she turned around to peer up at her older brother, expecting some new game, not to see him with a sword, poised to strike her. Her large brown eyes widened in fear and her lips opened, as if to scream, but no sound came out. The flowers she had picked fell from her fingers in a heap at his feet.

"_...you will stab her..._"

Neither moved from their positions and Raddy screamed silently for everything to stop. _Don't hurt Snow,_ he begged pathetically, bangingagainst a mental prison made of magic. He needed to get back to his senses, otherwise there would be no possibilities of tomorrow...of dreaming of being with Snow White, even if only as her older brother...there was no way she would ever return his feelings for her.

He could only regret and grieve, should she die here and now, because he lacked the power to break an enchantment over himself.

"..._you will be my huntsman..._"

His mother was a talented enchanter and a part of the royal Tourneur family, a distant cousin who had a great deal of magical prowess that was second to none in their kingdom. The only person who could even think of topping her was his father, the illustrious Wicked Fairy, who had sunken entire civilizations, ruined others and cursed many a people who had dared defy him. Raddy, when one considered all the angles, was screwed. He was a brown fairy; a misfit in every sense of the word. All fairies are given one gift, a special power that could help them or hinder them depending on how lucky they were. Raddy's gift was a more nurturing and natural one. He didn't even have other talents to make up for the lack of an incredible magical gift. Everything he did was average at best, so there was little hope for him to break a curse he was sure even his father would have trouble undoing.

But he _had_ to break free. It was not a question of '_can_ he do it'--he _needed_ to do it. For the sake of the girl who still sat before him, wide-eyed with fear and waiting for the blow that would end her young life, staring at him with the silent question of 'why'. For the girl he loved...

"_...you will plunge your sword into her heart..._"

His hands began to shake, the blade making an audible sound as he fought for control of his body, which had been stolen from him and reduced to a mere pawn by his mother's fiendish intentions to kill little Snow. Surrounded as he had been by his parents' magic all his life, he had never come even close to experiencing something like this. His father, arrogant bastard that he was, had been attentive enough to try and teach him to defend himself. One of his lessons had been to never let anyone push you around. He had to fight back, otherwise he would never get anywhere in life. Those words echoed in his mind as he stood - frozen for the moment - over Snow. But the sword was moving dangerously in his hand. It was moving downwards!

_No_, he thought, watching in horror as the sword descended bit by bit as he willed it to stop. As he tried to will himself to let go of the weapon. _No...I won't...I won't...._

"_...You will stab her my hunstman...._"

_No..._

The sword suddenly came crashing down.

_NO!_

A scream rang out into the air as blade met flesh and something wet splashed onto the fairy's front.

And the whole world went mercifully black.


	17. Getting Ready

**Apple's Note:** After much personal gripping and battling with my Guitar Hero addiction, the old chapter 16 is now 17. XD

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**CHAPTER 17**

Getting Ready

"Aaaaaand we're done. It's time to pack up for tonight," Red declared, looking up at the darkening sky. They had been at it all day and had just finished interviewing the last of the heroes that had come for the tryouts. It had taken them several days to sort everything out, but eventually the panel made up of Wolf, Red, and Stolthet had weeded out the worst of the lot in terms of personality. It wouldn't do for Snow to end up with some fat, drunken, angry man-whore with a penchant for gambling and an overdeveloped fondness for pickled pig's feet, after all.

The brown fairy nodded, standing up from his seat and stretching his limbs. His wings fluttered slightly, lifting him off the ground a few centimeters. Raddy sighed; it had really been one hell of a long day. Wolf and Red probably felt likewise as they slowly began to help Stolthet and Lat fold and carry the table and chairs back to the large tent they had been living in for the last week. When it had become apparent the preliminaries would last longer than a day, they had set up the tent nearby, rather than traveling back and forth to the dwarves' cottage each day.

The cheerfully striped white and orange tent was round, able to comfortably accommodate six sleepers, and high enough so that neither Raddy nor the dwarves had to worry about knocking their heads against something. The sturdy canvas kept the rain out, but also breathed so the occupants of the tent wouldn't suffocate or overheat. Tonight it would be Raddy, Red, Wolf, Lat and Stolthet sleeping the night in the tent while the others remained at the cottage keeping an eye on Snow.

"So, we interviewed them, managed to keep the ones who aren't jerks…now what?" Red asked as he got out the bedrolls and blankets.

"Did ye already forget?" Lat asked him in a teasing sort of voice. "Now the fun begins!"

"I think you have a skewed definition of the word 'fun'," Red muttered.

"Azrael and Lat have collected several unicorns, as we previously worked out," Raddy spoke up. "And the others have all been working on preparations as well. Tomorrow we begin the contest to determine which of our heroes might be able to keep up with Snow on her wild adventures and keep her safe."

Red shuddered at the mention of unicorns. Azrael had already volunteered him to help herd the creatures during the contest; short of running away and leaving them all behind, there was no getting around it.

"I still don't get the point of that pile of women's clothing," Wolf spoke up, distracting Red from his doomful thoughts of unicorns.

"Neither do I, honestly, but Åtrå insisted," Stolthet said with a shrug.

"And Överseende agreed with him, for some reason," Raddy added.

"Överseende agrees to _anything,_" Red pointed out.

"Well, whatever," Stolthet said, stretching and beginning to unbutton his shirt. "I'm sure whatever he's got planned will be enormously entertaining for the rest of us, so I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Red wasn't sure he agreed, but didn't pursue the subject any further. The most difficult part of the evening (for him) had arrived, and he had found the best way to deal with it was to remain very quiet while the other four chatted and turn his back on everyone else in the tent until they were all snuggled securely under their blankets. Stolthet and Lat weren't too bad, as they only removed their shirts and boots in order to sleep. Raddy was a little worse - not only because he stripped all the way down to his underwear to sleep, but also because Red still had a little crush on him, and Raddy sans clothing was quite a nice sight to behold.

Wolf, however was the real problem. Not only did he continue to sleep nude, despite the company in the tent, but ever since Red had acknowledged his budding attraction the man, even accidentally catching a glimpse of him as he disrobed caused him to blush crimson red, which in turn caused teasing remarks from Stolthet and Raddy. Wolf never said anything, and actually pretended not to notice, which just went to endear him that much further to Red.

He waited until the others had settled down, and walked quickly around the tent blowing out the lanterns they used for light, saving the one near his own bedroll for last. Stripping quickly down to his boxers in the semi-darkness, he finally slid under his blankets. He listened to the other four chat for a while longer before they all eventually said their good-nights. When that happened, Red blew out the last of the lights, curled up on his side, and fell quickly asleep.

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The very next day when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, the men in the tent woke up one by one to get ready for the upcoming contest to further screen the heroes. The ones who had passed the initial interview would now be tested on their physical state as well as problem-solving abilities (as Snow White was the type who got herself into trouble, either by accident or by design, she would need someone who could get her out of nasty scrapes). The main details of the so-called 'contest' were still a bit sketchy, but Red didn't care as long as he had some food in him (cooked by a rather happy Stolthet accompanied by a chipper Åtrå who had come by their encampment to help out that day). After everyone was refreshed and properly fed, they finally got down to business.

"Well, it's near time for t'other lads t'be a-gettin' 'ere," Åtrå noted, looking up at the clear sky. "So, it'd be best to draw up our lots."

"Lots...?" Red asked, taking a seat on the soft grass. It was warm from the sun's rays shining down from the Glass Lighthouse, even though just some miles away at the very edge of the Spring Fields the baker-turned-pirate could see a snow storm raging. It was amazing how their world worked—they had fairies as guardians to underprivileged children, the embodiment of Death as the godmother of one human man, illogical weather, horses with horns on their heads that somehow knew when someone had never had sex before...

Speaking of the unicorns, Azrael had managed to catch quite a few somehow (probably had to do with his affinity with equines of nearly any kind), and had them stowed away. For the contest ahead it had been decided that Red would keep and eye on them and herd them about as necessary - since unicorns are attracted to virgins in exactly the same way cats are to catnip, he was the logical choice...and they all knew it. So, when Åtrå mentioned drawing lots to see who was to do what job during the trials set up for the heroes...he was exempted from picking one.

Red was given pieces of string to hold, and Lat, Stolthet, Åtrå, Wolf, Raddy, and Azrael sat in a circle around him, waiting for their jobs for the day to be decided. Each string had a color at the end of each tip, which was hidden within the dark-haired man's closed fist. Every person seated was to pull out a string; only Åtrå knew what each color was for, which meant that he would be the one explaining the meanings (and gleefully, too, if Red knew the lewd dwarf well enough)

Red held out his fist and allowed each of his companions to draw a string. Once his hand was empty, everyone turned to Åtrå for an explanation.

"Alright," the redhead said, looking down at the colored strings. "Lat, looks like ye'll be helpin' Red herd the unicorns...good thing, too," he added with a leer at his blond friend. Lat stuck his tongue out in response. Red wondered briefly what that exchange could have meant, but was distracted when Åtrå continued, "Raddy, ye'll be helpin' Avund and myself as an official, keeping track of the heroes and whatnot." Raddy nodded, expression hidden as always behind his ever-present mask. "Wolf...Aye, Wolf-me-lad, _ye'll_ be with Vrede."

"Doing what?" Wolf asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow at the heavily smirking dwarf.

"Overseeing the costume portion of the competition," Åtrå said succinctly, clearly savoring the moment. Wolf looked like he wasn't sure he wanted to be amused or disgusted. "If ye need any help with yer costume, don't hesitate t' give a shout," Åtrå continued, winking flirtatiously.

"I'll keep that in mind," Wolf responded with a smirk. Red glared at the ground between his toes.

"Stolthet, we've got ye herding the goblins with Giri, and Azrael...heh. Ye're our princess stand-in."

"Does this mean I get to wear a dress?" Azrael sounded far more delighted than Red thought a man of his rank and dignity ought at the prospect of dressing like a girl. Åtrå leered extra smuttily (Red thought) and replied,

"Indeed it does, me lad, indeed it does."

"Yay!" Much to Red's horror, Azrael clapped his hands in girlish delight and bounced happily on his knees.

"But that means Överseende is left guarding Snow, right Åtrå?" Raddy asked, before Red or anyone else could become too bemused at the elf's odd glee.

"That's right," Åtrå said, nodding at Raddy.

The brown fairy seemed to consider something, his long ears twitching slightly as he thought. One didn't need to see his face to know what he was thinking about, however. The man was contemplating the notion of possibly asking Överseende to switch jobs with him so he could stay by Snow's side during the trials to come instead of standing around and watching heroes sweat all day. After a few moments of waiting for Raddy to speak, Åtrå just shrugged and waved him off.

"Off with ye, ye great big oaf. Yer _princess_ awaits," the orange-clad dwarf said, without a trace of perversity for once. One might even say that the expression he wore bordered on innocent fondness, but anyone who saw it simply brushed it off as temporary insanity. When the fairy didn't move, Åtrå stood and dragged him to his feet, and gave him a push in the direction of the dwarves' cottage. "Go on. Can't keep her royal nibs, waitin'. Överseende won't mind tradin' places with ye."

Raddy might have scowled at the redhead, but his mask ruined the effect of whatever glare he was sending, so he followed up with muttering unflattering epithets as he flew away. "She isn't _my_ princess..." The dwarves that were there got a good laugh out of that and catcalled after him as Raddy returned to the forest, making his way swiftly back to Snow White's side. Red was somewhat confused by this, though, considering that he had been friends with the two siblings for years. It had never really occurred to him that Snow and Raddy weren't exactly related by blood. Especially now that he was older and (somewhat) wiser, he could only recall the memories of childhood that stuck out to him the most—and he assumed the way things and people had been would always remain constants in his life (when he didn't directly interfere with said constants by poisoning them). And one of _those_ was that Snow and Raddy were inseparable, no matter how they were related to one another.

His thoughts on the Raddy-Snow situation were temporarily dropped when the other dwarves arrived and Åtrå called for everyone to get into positions. The baker was nearly knocked over by an overly-enthusiastic Azrael, who sprinted towards the tent to get changed into a dress one of the dwarves had handed him. Thankfully, someone was nearby to catch him before he hit the dirt.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, beautiful," said Wolf in a soft, husky tone that sent shivers down his spine. If the leather-clad man's voice had been a flavor, Red would have said it was velvety, rich dark chocolate. And if he could have labeled it, he would have said 'Dark Lord's voice', but she supposed the name would have been something else if he hadn't recently learned about Wolf's parentage. Which reminded him: falling for the sons of Dark Lords was generally considered a Very Bad Idea (not that he _was_, but it was generally frowned upon to be hanging around people related to evil overlords, and Ironic Overpower forbid that he fall head over heels for such a man, let alone develop a crush on him). Red blushed, irritated and confused, and shoved Wolf away, receiving a rather confused look for his trouble.

"Don't call me that," Red growled, staring at the ground and wondering why he hadn't just stalked away. Wolf smirked.

"Whatever you say, Red." And, without any further warning, he wrapped his arms around Red once more and copped a feel of his behind, earning himself an indignant screech.

Red was outraged. His face took on a nice shade of tomato-cherry. "Wolf!" The man looked suitably ashamed, but then his expression became perplexed, and then shocked. In all honesty, it worried Red somewhat, so he toned down on the glower he had been sending the silver-haired man's direction. "Wolf? Hey, Wolf, you alright?"

The wolf-ish man snapped out of his reverie. He quickly nodded, looking somewhat...flustered? "Huh? Oh, yeah...Yeah, I'm alright...I just..."

Red raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his hips. "Just what?"

"Well..." The older man searched for the right words to say, hoping it wouldn't upset the small-statured baker when he said them. "It's just...I suppose it's sort of odd. You haven't hit me in a while..."

Red blinked. Then blinked a second time. And then a third. He felt just as confused as Wolf looked. Finally, he asked, "Do you _want_ me to hit you?"

"No!" the denial was immediate and vehement.

"Ye should do it," Åtrå broke in, before Red could say anything else. "It'd be kinky."

Red's face flushed once more in outrage as he turned to glare at the redheaded dwarf. "Mind your own damn business, you single-minded pervert!" he said heatedly, then spun angrily on his heel and stalked off toward the tent. "C'mon, Lat. Let's go get those bloody unicorns ready to meet the bloody heroes."

He spent the rest of the morning preparations alternately trying to prevent the small unicorn herd from accidentally crushing him in their unwavering affection and imagining riding a glorious stampede of angry unicorns all over Åtrå until his body was black and blue and he apologized for every perverted thought he'd ever had. Between these two activities, he didn't have much time to ponder the brief exchange with Wolf, and he was glad for it. When Överseende called his name from outside the temporary coral that had been set up to keep the unicorns in one spot, he was relieved for an excuse to get away from the dumb beasts.

"Wolf's asking for ye, Red," the easy-going blond said, once Red had made his way closer to where he was standing.

"What? Why?"

"He wants ye to help him with something. Oh, Lat, ye're here too. Vrede told me to get ye."

"What's going on?" Lat asked, appearing from beneath a crush of delighted, stupid unicorns as though he were completely unaffected by the threat of several thousand pounds of hard muscle accidentally crushing him to death. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

Överseende shrugged. "I'm not sure. They were asking for ye, but wouldn't let me into the tent. I think they're having costume problems."

Red briefly pondered the meaning of _that_ statement as he and Lat made their way back to the tent. As they neared the canvas structure, loud Dwarvish cursing could be heard from within. Lat's eyes widened and he hurried inside. Red followed at a more sedate pace, and paused outside the tent.

"See, look, Lat's here, now GET THE HELL OUT, ye bloody tosser!" Vrede was in rare form today, it seemed.

"Awwww, are ye sure?" Åtrå's dulcet tones oozed injured innocence.

"If' ye're not gone from me sight by the count of five, ye'll live to regret it," Vrede threatened.

"Surely ye don't mean that, Vrede..." Åtrå responded, innocent as a newborn babe.

"One," Vrede said slowly, drawing out the word.

"Oh, c'mon, lad, don't ye think it'd be better t' have two helpers?"

"Two," Vrede said, ignoring him completely.

"What if I just went over here t' help Wolf instead...?" Åtrå suggested.

"_Five!_" Vrede shouted, and immediately following was a loud thump and several shouted Dwarvish insults. Moments later, Åtrå was shoved bodily from the tent by two sets of hands. He grumbled indignantly and brushed off the front of his orange kilt, as though ridding it of some unseen dust. He then seemed to notice Red, for he turned and smirked quite smuttily.

"I wish ye better luck than I had in there, Red-me-lad," he said with a flirtatious wink, before flipping his shoulder-length hair over his shoulder and striding off, whistling the tune of a bawdy song as he went.

"Red?" Wolf's voice called from inside the tent. Seeing as he had been specifically requested, and seeing as how Vrede didn't seem to be offering any opposition as to his presence, he lifted up the tent flap and stepped into the dim space.

"Wolf? What's wrong? What did you need me for?" the baker asked, perusing the interior for the man who had requested his presence. There was very little light in the tent, with only a few lamps lit in the corners to brighten things up. He thought to pin the flaps of the entry up to shed some light on the large one-room tent, but the moment he turned around to do just that, someone grabbed him and he was pulled up against a hard chest...covered in lace. "Wh-what the--?!"

Red panicked for a moment. For a second, he thought he was in the arms of the Queen of Hearts, who had finally come to him, seeking his lost pastries with unholy wrath. Whenever the baker went off to do his chores, he often wondered where the kingdom of Wonderland turned to for its supply of baked goods, when he wasn't around to order from, considering eating sweets kept King/Queen Edward from going completely off his rocker and prevented him from executing everybody around him for the smallest of infractions. He gulped, wondering if he was going to lose his own head...

"Red?"

The man in question blinked. That voice...that wasn't the Queen of Hearts bearing holy Hell down upon him. Looking up, he froze at the thing that came into his gaze. The face he saw did not belong to the infamous and axe-happy ruler of Wonderland. It was pasty white and had deeply set, shadowed eyes that practically glowed at him in the dimness of the tent, shining malicious as a huge, bloody mouth stretched into a wide grin. Red screamed and started to try to get away.

"Aaaaurrrgggh! Zombie!" he cried, much to his captor's chagrin. The small man struggled energetically and ended up hitting the so-called undead a few times in the face. The 'zombie' called out for a bit of help and an extra pair of hands grabbed onto Red, preventing him from any further flailing. The dark-haired man turned to see who had held him down and blanched, glimpsing another grotesque-looking zombie, and screamed some more, swearing up to the Ironic Overpowers with all the strength of his rather mighty lungs. As Red has a notoriously foul sailor mouth, the following swears have been delightfully edited in order to keep his rantings nice and unoffensive.

"Your mother ---- ----- ----- soup ----- ------ ---- and the millennium ----- ---- ------ in a castle where nobody can hear you ----------tied upside down --- --- ---- with a bucket full of crabs and ------ -------- ----------- oranges ----- ---------- -- ---- the whole tree where the sun don't shine!!! ----!!!!"

"Well, the same t'ye, too, ye great blind oaf!"

Red paused a moment. Who did that sound like? It took him quite a bit to figure out as he stared at his 'undead assailants', trying to look past the extreme whiteness of their faces and the utter tragedy that had befallen them. Between the one with long pale hair and the one with unruly blond hair, their rather masculine bodies, and the way they stood (despite holding him down) Red should have known who they were. The sounds of a dwarf guffawing at his predicament made him blush his namesake, and suddenly he wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

"Um...Vrede?"

"Aye," replied the man wearing a schoolmarm's grey dress, and holding him firmly from behind. Red turned his gaze forward and looked up at the man in the lacey skirt.

"...Wolf?"

The man gave him an insufferable smirk. "Yes."

Lat, who had been watching the entire exchange (rather quietly for once), yelled out, "Lat!" for no good reason, before falling into a laughing fit.

Ignoring him, Red shoved Vrede away from him and stood up on his own, only to find himself standing uncomfortably close to Wolf. The taller man was watching him intently from behind his ghastly mask of what Red now perceived as pale make-up. Red glared.

"Well? What did you want?" he asked, trying to keep the rudeness from his voice and mostly succeeding. Wolf seemed unaffected by his tone, however, and answered readily enough,

"We have no bloody idea what we're doing," he said, indicating his face. "We were hoping you'd be able to...advise us."

Red stared at him without saying anything for several long moments. He wasn't sure whether or not to be insulted at the implication that he would be better able to apply make-up than any other man. Deciding it didn't matter for the moment, he shoved that thought aside in favor of a much more appealing one. He smirked.

"You're wearing dresses," he said. Wolf looked discomfited and shifted his weight a bit.

"Yeah," he said.

"And make-up," Red continued, turning to look from Wolf to Vrede.

"Aye," Vrede all but snarled.

"Tsk!" Red cautioned, holding up a warning finger. "It's improper for a lady to scowl so! Let's get some more light in here so I can see what I'm working with, hmm?" He brushed past them, his previous indignity temporarily forgotten in the glory that was lording it over the two males dressed in drag.

Once he had enough light to see by, Red noted the floor of the tent was strewn with discarded clothing - all women's. He carefully scrutinized his subjects, and quickly drew two separate conclusions.

Wolf, dressed in a black skirt and matching white-black-and-purple lace top was the least-frumpy of the two, never mind his terrible make-up job. He had a good base on which to start, at least. Vrede, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to mimic an old woman, with his sensible grey skirt and matching silk blouse. Since what little Red knew of the "costume" portion of the competition had to do with testing the heroes' fashion sense, he could tell right away that neither of the men before him would make passable examples.

So he set to work with a will that would have made Arachne proud. The first thing he did was have them wash their faces while he went through the pile of clothes. Lat looked on in bemusement from an out-of-the-way corner of the tent as he considered first one bit of clothing, then another. By the time Wolf and Vrede had rid themselves of their failed attempts at face-painting, Red had located several items.

"Change into this," he said, unceremoniously shoving a cascade of red and gold silk and brocade into Vrede's arms. "Lat, help him, please. Wolf, here," he said, turning to his silver-haired tormenter with a decidedly wicked grin. He held in his hands a very pretty, very lacy, very _stifling_ black whalebone corset. It was the kind meant to be worn on the outside. Wolf looked at it apprehensively. "Turn around," Red said when it looked as though all the man was going to do was stare stupidly.

Recovering some of his usual aplomb, Wolf smirked and did as Red said, shimmying his hips as he turned about to make the skirt swirl around his long legs. Red watched in fascination for a moment before he realized what he was doing, and shook his head to clear it. He wrapped the corset around Wolf's front and brought it together at the back, whereupon he began lacing it closed with a black ribbon.

"You sure seem to be enjoying this," Wolf commented as he tugged none-too-gently on the ends of the ribbon to make the corset snugger.

"Maybe I am," Red responded with a smirk, pulling again on the ribbons and causing Wolf to gasp. Satisfied, he began to tie them off. He couldn't help noticing, as he did so, how very close his hands were to Wolf's silk-and-lace covered rear, and how very, very tempting a target said anatomy presented. He finished tying a pristine bow with the ribbon, and before he could quite stop himself, reached just a bit further and pinched Wolf's ass.

Wolf let out a startled yelp and whirled around, amber eyes wide, and Red suddenly understood why the man took so much pleasure in doing the same to him - his reaction was delightful to watch.

"Did you just...?" Wolf started, staring incredulously at Red, who was smirking even as he blushed slightly.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. He still saw the stupid grin that spread over Wolf's features, and couldn't help but smile sheepishly in return.

"Umm...Red?" came a shy voice, interrupting the two men in the midst of their moment. It came from a partitioned part of the tent that hadn't been there earlier that day when they had left to go back to working on the Hero Tryouts. The baker wasn't sure, but he thought he knew that voice from somewhere. "Can I get some help, too?"

Red looked at Wolf, wondering if he knew who was it talking, but the man in drag just shrugged, though Vrede suddenly looked rather amused. And that, in and of itself, was just not right, because when the rather grumpy dwarf smiled to himself like that it felt as though Hell itself was rising up and converging on him like a pack of wolves upon a stray lamb. Or something equally as dramatic as that. The dwarf went over to the extra bit of tarp held up by pieces of rope, hands on his hips in a rather feminine stance.

"Ye done already?" he asked, sarcasm dripping off of every word. "Ye've been there fer quite a while. Come on out, Azrael, the suspense is killin' me. You don't get all happy about wearin' some pink grotesquity and then not come out t'show everyone."

"But this is so embarrassing...what if I look as frightening as you and Wolf did? I'm not too good with make-up..." came Azrael's voice, which sounded a lot higher than Red had ever heard it. Perhaps the elf was trying to talk in falsetto since he was being the princess stand-in for the tryouts? If so, that was the most convincing falsetto the baker had ever heard, and _he_ was the one mistaken for a girl on a constant basis without even trying most of the time.

"I'm sure Red won't scream at ye if he saw ye. Now come out. The heroes'll be coming any minute and we can't be dawdling' here too long."

A soft sigh. "Alright, alright...I'm coming out," Azrael said to an anticipating audience. The tarp was drawn slowly aside by a gloved hand and the elf stepped out, causing Red's jaw drop and Wolf's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Vrede and Lat (who was starting to clean up the mess they had made) were the only two who weren't surprised by the elf's appearance. In fact, they smiled at each other knowingly.

Azrael made a rather lovely girl, compared to his companions in cross-dressing. He had even gone so far as to don a very long wig (that looked so real it seemed to have grown straight from his scalp) and had produced a bosom that would have fooled the elf's own mother. The pink princess gown he wore suited his rather delicate-looking body and the light amount of make-up that he had applied brought out the color of his eyes and the natural blush already in his cheeks. There was a circlet around his head, most likely of Dwarven design, loaned to him by one of the dwarves for this one day. It pushed his bangs back, making sure that his rather pretty face wasn't covered by anything.

Had Red been straight he would have jumped Azrael.

But since he wasn't straight and knew Azrael was male he simply admired his friend's transformation with appreciation. In either mode of dress Azrael always did look his best—even when caked in mud, blood and sweat when he came back from spelunking or from a battlefield. If he hadn't met Raddy first, Red was sure that his childhood crush would have been on the elf instead of the fairy.

"Uh...I...uh..."

Wolf reached over and pushed Red's mouth closed with a gentle finger. His jaw snapped shut with an audible 'click'.

Azrael nervously scratched behind his head. "Well, I suppose the lack of girly screams about zombies and spirits returning from the dead is a good sign..."

"You make a very pretty Elf Princess, Azrael," Lat compliment, gesturing for him to come over and sit on the little wooden stool Vrede had been occupying when he'd done his friend's make-up. Azrael smiled and daintily went over, holding up his skirts and showing off a rather girly pair of ankles. How come Red had never noticed those before...? "Very pretty," he repeated.

"Don't just stand about with yer gobs hangin' open, lads!" Vrede said, turning on Red and Wolf. While Red had been lacing up Wolf's corset, Lat had managed to stuff Vrede into the garment Red had decided would suit him better than the reserved grey he'd gone with initially. The gold-trimmed red gown was slightly too small for the dwarf's broad torso, and clung to well-developed stomach and chest muscles as only silk can cling. Red glared, while Wolf smirked.

"Keep your knickers on, Prima-donna," Red retorted. Wolf made a snorting sound that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh.

"He hasn't got any," Lat spoke up from where he was putting the finishing touches on Azrael's make-up. Vrede smirked and Red blanched.

"Too much information!"

"Don't be such a great baby, Baker," Vrede said. "Now why don't ye put some make-up on Wolf so we can get this ridiculous competition started and finished, hmm?"

Annoyed, Red did as he was asked, and soon both Wolf and Vrede were looking a lot less tragic than they had been when he'd first entered the tent. Azrael outshone the pair with his unexpected natural girly-ness, but the two men each looked quite gorgeous on their own...as far as drag queens went. Red was just putting the final flourishes on Wolf's outfit (black hair ribbons done in bows on either side of his face) when Åtrå returned to the tent to let them know the heroes were gathered and ready.

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It was the End of the World As Apple Knew It. Again. For the eighty-fourth time in a row since the Beginning of the World As Apple Knew It.

Apple was too distracted at the moment to care about whatever sinister plots were being hatched by an evil ice queen, or the woes of a stepbrother who pined for the love of his enchanted stepsister, or about Wicked apparently having been married once and the father of a child, of all things. Nope, her mind was set on more important matters--matters that, if not handled correctly, could result in something utterly catastrophic!

Or earn her a scolding from Kiwi. Which might even be worse, actually. The angel could be agonizingly long-winded when she wanted to be and Apple didn't particularly feel like sitting through one of her dearest angel's long lectures on organization (she had already gone through that once when she'd showed her counterpart her insanely large, yet very untidy library in the Gates of Beyond). Kiwi was a bit of a fanatic when it came to books as well, so it only made her situation worse. Yes, that's right folks: Apple had lost a book!

Well, to be fair, it was more like she had _misplaced_ a book. After all, Apple never did look at a book twice once she'd filed it away in the library in the Gates of Beyond, where it was either kept as a 'completed story' or eventually underwent further editing by the Scribes (Apple personal writing 'staff' made up of enchanted writing utensils). More often than not, the books were filed uncompleted, since she often had writer's cramp from manually putting a tale together. There were probably over a million stories she had penned herself, and almost as many left in the careful care of her Scribes while she kept track of the current stories as they were unfolding. It was of the utmost importance that all of her books be kept safe, however, as they were more than just pieces of her world's history.

They were pieces of the world themselves.

"I don't understand! Where could I have put it?" Apple muttered to herself. She felt like she had searched _everywhere_. The demon had had a stroke of inspiration some time ago and had become sidetracked from the object of her search and gone off to attend to other things, and now couldn't find the book she had prematurely abandoned.

"Where could you have put what?"

Apple froze. Kiwi was standing behind her. Who knew how long she had been there? Turning around from peering under a rug, she smiled pleasantly at her angel as she stood up straight.

"Oh, nothing at all, angel. I just can't find my cream soda," she said. Kiwi looked at her dubiously.

"Your cream soda is in its usual place: under the table," the Angelic Overpower of Irony said, pointing her finger unerringly towards the two-liter bottle of carbonated drink stored underneath the parlor table where they usually ate together. Apple, beginning to sweat a little, laughed nervously.

"Oh! Why, there it is! Thank you, angel! I was having a craving for some soda and had no idea where it went, so I'll just grab it and be on my way now--"

"Apple." Kiwi sounded grave. She even had the grim expression to match. Uh-oh. Busted...

"Y-yes?" Apple asked sweetly. There came a very pregnant silence. It was so pregnant that it was two weeks overdue to give birth to a baby who would grow up into a solemn adult filled with gravity, or possibly one doomed to be perpetually followed by a friendly tumbleweed. The two opposing yet conjoined sides of the balance that guided the world stood very still, staring at one another, waiting until the other gave out under the pressure.

Luckily for Apple, Kiwi was often oblivious (and even downright confused, at times), and this day was no different. The somber look on the angel's face turned into a sunny one.

"Can I have some, too?"

Apple could have died from relief, but didn't. Instead she made a grin that matched Kiwi's own and they had a jolly time drinking cream soda together over some potato chips. The demon still worried over the whereabouts of her lost book, but didn't concern herself too much. It would it would turn up eventually. It had to.

And so, the Ironic Overpowers settled down once more to watch the happenings below them. The Hero Tryouts. Not the brightest of ideas that the pair had ever heard of, but it worked all the same. The two of them had wished for something _else_ to have happened, but had decided in the end that this was as good an alternative as any. Their protagonists needed time to figure some things out, after all, and the tryouts would be a good way to stall for some time until they did.

"By the way, Apple..."

"Huh?"

"Do you know what happened to the Wonderland book?"

"Um..."

"I was looking for it today and I couldn't find it. I know it's been about ten years since I last saw it, so it might be in the wrong section again, but..."

Apple chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her head. Ah, it would seem that her partner had noticed the book had gone missing after all.

"You didn't lose it, did you?" Kiwi asked, staring very hard at her companion. Apple shook her head vigorously, fearful of the possible lecture.

"I may have misplaced it," she said, trying to convince the angel of the truthfulness of her words with her big, shiny, puppy-dog eyes. "But it'll turn up eventually! They always do!"

"Apple!" Kiwi sounded exasperated. "Honestly! You'd think someone as old as you would know how to look after such an important item!"

"I did! I do! I'm sure it just got misfiled! I'll go looking for it after the Hero Tryouts, alright?"

Kiwi narrowed her eyes briefly, but her usually sunny disposition quickly overruled her suspicion. "Alright," she said easily. It wasn't in her nature to be suspicious, after all.

"Anyway, wherever it is...I'm sure it's in a safe place."

_I hope._


	18. Dilemma

**CHAPTER 18**

Dilemma

_Ten Years Ago..._

His first conscious thought was that something was quite soft.

His second thought was that it was warm and he wouldn't mind staying comfortable there for a while longer.

His third thought consisted of barely describable syllables slung together to make an incomprehensible train of thought.

His fourth thought, which was slightly more organized, realized that his leg was in pain, which prompted thought number five and that happened to be 'why the hell is my leg hurting?' in not so many words.

Raddy groaned as he turned to the side, his face burrowing itself further in the pillow cushioning his head, the rough fabric of its case irritating his eyelids. And thought number six—

"Now, I know that most like t' get between me legs, but lad...I barely know yer."

And thought number six was well expressed more vocally and that was what Raddy did as he jumped away from the talking 'pillow' that started to move soon after he moved away. He scrambled backwards, wary of what hit his wings, eyes wild as he glanced around. Wood. Wood up above, wood to the sides and wood right in front of him. Wood, wood, wood, wood and even _more_ wood. And not that kind of wood either, so would the reader please kindly remove any dirty thoughts within the vicinity of this story right now. Thank you. Goodness. People could be so immature these days. Honestly...

There was a man in front of him; one with fiery red hair, dressed in simple clothes consisting of a sweater and an orange kilt. His boots—_Oh, hiking boots. I love hiking boots. Very rugged very—_were covered in dirt, as if he had been mucking about in some dark cavern (or a very deep puddle of mud) all day long. There were a few spots where his clothes were stained dark as well, but that certainly didn't stop this stranger's...'cheerful' expression from shining through at Raddy, who wished to know where he was, what was going on, where was his sister and why the _hell_ did his leg hurt. Not in that order and in not so many words.

The kilt wearing stranger took a step forward, Raddy scrambled back more, his behind rubbing against the wooden floor. The man raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the brown fairy's behaviour. Then he just shrugged and put on an air of great longsuffering, a hip going out to the right with a hand on it, while the other was pressed oh, so delicately to his forehead.

"Oh, woe is me!" he said rather melodramatiocally. "Here I am playing host t' a wounded fairy an' what do I git? Aye...he doesn' even want to say 'thanks so much fer carryin' me sorry arse all the way across the Spring Fields'. Nay...narry a minute goes by after I saved yer that I haven't thought of—"

"Oh, quit yer bellyachin', Åtrå. Yer not foolin' anyone."

Raddy whipped his head to the side, seeing another person come into the room (which he belatedly realized was actually quite cozy in the rustic way he liked it, if a bit messier than he was used to), also sporting a kilt, although his was in a flattering shade of forest green and his hair wasn't red at all like the person whose lap he had woken up on. It was a fair, wheat blond similar to his mother's that made him almost envious. Oh, how, he wished he had a shade like that. A normal color of—

"And you. Ye should be restin' right now," said the same person Raddy was entertaining random envious thoughts of, only now he was a mere few feet in front of him. It surprised the brown fairy greatly. How had he gotten there so quickly without his noticing? The wonder went away quickly, however, and all that the young man could think of was how much his leg hurt when the blond man crouched in front of him to poke at his throbbing limb. "It only just started t' heal up. Ye should stay off of it, 'til ye do."

"Wh-what's going on? Who are you people?" Raddy asked, trying to get up and move away. The man in green held his hands up placatingly, trying to keep the fairy calm.

"My name is Avund," the green man spoke peaceably, "and we're the ones who helped ye out there while ye were bleeding and moaning like some old ghoul lookin' for its lost head." The blond man grinned like it was something funny, but Raddy found no humor in the situation—his and the ghost Avund was talking about like it were some in-joke—and simply frowned. Wait...frown? He blinked, then looked around the room once again, experiencing a sort of revelation.

He realized that his mask wasn't on his face and sought to cover it up somehow, startling Avund into backing off as the brown fairy searched around himself frantically for his accursed mask.

"My mask! My mask, where is it?" Raddy demanded, hands on his bare face. He could actually feel the softness of his cheeks against the rough texture of his calloused hands. It was a familiar touch and yet so foreign as well; he normally never had the chance to touch his face, except in passing during his regular morning rituals. Looking concerned (and a tad miffed), Avund kneeled next to the poor young man and firmly took hold of his hands and looked the frazzled fairy straight in the eye. Raddy tried to get away, struggling like a trapped animal caught in a snare.

"We found no mask, friend. And neither did Snow, for that matter."

Raddy stopped.

"Snow?" he repeated softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Åtrå, who had been watching the entire time, nodded.

"Aye. She was the one who found us and asked us t' help ye," the redhead explained, going to take a spot on the sofa, putting his dirty boots on the coffee table in front of him. Avund frowned at this, but said nothing, knowing that his companion would be punished for his lack of manners later.

There was no mask. He was bare, he was exposed. They could _see_ him now. Not that they couldn't before; the mask he wore had no magical powers. It didn't make him invisible or extra powerful or enhanced his natural abilities or anything, but it had made him feel safe to have it on, ever since he was a young lad and in front of strangers he felt very lost and uncomfortable. Noticing the sudden change in demeanor, the blond man reached and gave a great heave as he quite suddenly lifted Raddy and deposited him down on the other couch with the ease of a well-worked man (that is to say 'worked' as in, he worked every day and got stronger and not 'worked' as in the dirty sense of the word).

"Ye got a lot on yer mind right now, lad. Rest up first and we'll tell ye all ye need t' know, a'ight?" Avund said kindly. He looked over at Åtrå who had suddenly taken to lying on the couch, although with his legs up in the air where his head should be and vice versa. The man's face was turning the same color as his hair and he laid upside down like that. Avund gave a swift kick that Åtrå was luckily fast enough to avoid. "And _you_. Get off of yer arse and go find one of our scarves would ye? And don't make me tell ye twice!"

And being the type who didn't need to be told twice (most of the time), Åtrå was off to another part of the cottage.

Sighing, Avund sat down on the other, now vacated, couch, steepling his fingers together. Raddy watched the stranger as he sat back, a look of utter irritation crossing his face. The fairy wondered if he was the cause of the look, for suddenly coming into his life and burdening him with his problems, but the look disappeared as quickly as it had come. His blue eyes (Raddy suddenly felt a spike of jealousy looking at them, because they were perfectly shaped and were a lovely shade of sky blue that he wouldn't have minded possessing himself) were fixed on the injured fairy's face, which made the same fairy feel more than a ltitle uncomfortable. He stared at the floor.

"Umm...if you don't mind my asking," Raddy began, breaking the silence that had befallen the living room once Åtrå had left. "...Where is Snow? What happened while I was out?"

Avund persed his lips. "Well, lad...how about I git ye something t' drink first, because you're going t' need it."

Drinks were served and the dwarf (Avund had to explain he wasn't an elf, even though his ears were pointed like one, but a dwarf suffering from gigantism) began to tell Raddy of what had happened, which shocked him quite a bit. Apparently, Snow White, stricken with worry for her brother had run off to find some help—but not from Icicle Town. The girl was intelligent and had known something had been up with Raddy, although she couldn't tell what and the same went for her step-mother, the queen. Who knew what the now deranged woman would do to her, especially sicne it was clear that she had sent her own son to do away her step-daughter? So, Snow went looking for help from one of the nearby farms, but had gotten herself lost in their woods and stumbled into them on their way home from working in the mines.

Luckily for them, they had found Raddy just in time, for while the wound wasn't as serious as a stab to the gut; if left unattended for too long he would have been seriously hurt and possibly handicapped for life, since the knife Raddy had tried to kill Snow with was firmly logged in his thigh. The dwarves (there had been four of them at the time, while another three stayed behind in the cottage with the disraught Snow) carried the unconscious fairy back to their cozy little home and Raddy had been resting since. And as for Snow, the young woman was out in the garden with one of the other dwarves.

So, Snow was safe and what had happened to him was no simple dream—it had been a _nightmare_. He had almost killed Snow and because of his mother of all people. It just didn't add up in Raddy's mind, because, despite herself, Helen was a very loving woman. She adored Snow and would never force Raddy to do any despicable things—it was one of the reasons why she left his father in the first place! She had wanted a good, peaceful life for them! A prosperous life filled with joy and happiness and light! And now this...

...It just didn't make any sense!

"Snow had mentioned our mother acting a bit strange, but I didn't think it would come to this," Raddy said, face now covered with a wool scarf thanks to Åtrå. It was a bit scratchy and rough, but it would have to do. "My mother wouldn't do this...something must have happened for her to suddenly want to kill my...my sister!"

Avund shrugged and took another swig of his tea. "Don't know really. But it's as clear as day, whatever the reason...she wants little Snow dead."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Raddy asked, heart filled with despair as he thought about his poor mother and also poor Snow. He had been allowed a peak of her, toiling in the land outside the cottage with a blue clad man who was smiling and telling her a story about an enchanter named Tim, and she had seemed happy, but he knew...he knew better. Although Snow smiled, it must be affecting her, too. Her biological mother, everyone knew, had been insane; the mad queen had killed all who stood in the way of her giving birth to the most perfect child and had died before she even had the chance to hold her. Helen was the young princess' only real mother figure in all the years she was alive and all of a sudden, she had turned on her.

Perhaps there was some foul magic afoot? A curse left behind by the old queen? Who knew? Certainly not anyone in the cottage.

"Do only what you can, lad." Their eyes were on the outside where girl and dwarf were having a random little tickle fight. The dark haired princess's fine clothes were ripped and covered in mud, but even dirtied, nothing could hide the beauty that the girl possessed. That soft, snow white skin, those long dark lashes, that silken hair the color of ebony and her lips the color of blood...

_Right_, Raddy thought. _Do what I can._

And so, it came to pass that Snow would stay with the dwarves until Raddy got to the bottom of the queen's sudden designs on the crown princess of Saison. But he had to continue to play the part of the huntsman, sent to kill the princess, so, after hunting for dinner, the brown fairy took the heart of the boar that had been killed and wrapped it up to show the enchantress that the deed had been done. It was messy work and the smell of the dead heart made Raddy sick to his stomach as he carried it back to the castle. But it was the only thing he could do.

His mother had fallen for it; hook, line and sinker. And all would be well for Snow White, until Raddy could figure out what was wrong with their mother.

--------------------------------------------------

It was to a snowy morning that Raddy had woken up to with a dreadful draft that chilled him to the bone. He had taken to living within the white walls of Snow Castle after the fateful day his own mother had tried to force his hand to kill the woman he loved above all else—even the person who had brought him into this world and cared and loved him since birth—making sure to keep an eye on his mother as she lived everyday, a shadow of her former self. The blonde woman was as beautiful as ever, looking ever the ice queen befitting the current ruler of this icy land. Every once in a while he would travel across the Spring Fields to enter the forest where the Seven Dwarves' cottage was located, where his lovely little princess was safely kept away.

Today would be a good day to visit her, he thought. The sky outside wasn't too cloudy, nor was it overly sunny, but if those grey clouds in the distance were of any indication, Raddy supposed he would have to make great haste to the woods. It looked like rain. Well, snow, perhaps. Or hail. Overpowers, he disliked hail. Whenever it hailed it was always seemed like crystal clear marbles raining down on his poor head and pricking at his brown butterfly wings.

He quickly dressed, forgoing his mask for the umpteenth time in a row. Ever since he started this facade of being under the queen's magical control, Raddy had to force himself not to wear his wooden mask, the other part of him that seemed long forgotten, lying on top of his bedside table. On a whim, he picked up the carved piece of wood and stared at its empty eyeholes. The world seemed a wider, scarier place when he didn't look through the eyes of his mask and he wished he could go back...go back a simpler, more innocent time. Sighing, he laid the mask down and left his chambers.

'Radamanthus' stalked the halls of the castle, headed for the stables to fetch his horse (riding was something he ahd to force himself into being accustomed to, since he didn't dare use or show his wings to anyone while within watching distance of Helen deTrois), passing by a pair of servants—the last of the few who stayed on in the castle, in fact, since Snow went 'missing'.

"Did you hear? A little boy was arrested last night," one gossipy maid said to her friend, a chamber maid with comically large glasses.

"Oh, really? On what charge?" she asked. Ah, rumors. One of the few things that kept his stone home at least a little bit alive, although the fairy preferred the chirping of birds and the chittering of chipmunks over the stage whispers of two maids who had nothing better to do than to gossip.

"Why, what else? After all, it's no secret the princess has gone missing..."

Raddy did not stop, even if it mentioned Snow's sudden disappearance from Saison. It wasn't anything new to him and it was pretty much old news in the kingdom itself. He was to round the corner and go through the western exit to reach the stables, but what was said next made a deathly chill go up his spine.

"...and the city guard dispatched today _did_ find the boy standing over her dead body! And in the eastern woods no less! In a little cottage near the dwarf mines..."

No, it couldn't be, he thought, standing frozen in front of the door. It was just a rumor.

"No!" The other maid was shocked and sounded dramatically so.

Just a stupid part of palace life he did not care for. He couldn't believe it. It had only been a week since he last saw Snow, happy as a pea in a pod, sweeping up after the dwarves with a cute little broom. He remembered she had soot on her cheeks, which made her look quite adorable and fetching in his eyes...

"Who was the boy, though?" The same woman asked, more curious than horrified with the news of how their crowned princess had been found out in the middle of nowhere with her supposed killer standing over her.

"Why, goodness me! Who else, but that Reaper boy?" the other woman said, looking quite offended, beginning to walk again, headed towards their intended and undisclosed destination. "They found him standing over her dead body! And with the murder weapon, too! Found a whole lot of it in his basket as well!"

"No..."

As the two maids went onwards without a care to whoever had heard them a cold, cold dread began to seep up Raddy's spine. Just the other day, he thought numbly, he had seen Snow. She had been dirty and ragged, but happy. So very happy and bright. The man had tried to visit her as much as he was able without arousing suspicion from the queen; talked to her and played with her as much as he could. Always covered up, always masked, of course. After what he had almost allowed himself to do, the muddy fairy couldn't bring himself to let her see his face anymore (to which she had said he was being melodramatic and she liked seeing his face, but Raddy was ever adamant about his masks).

But now...

And Red....Little Red Reaper had done it? Why? How?

No, he thought as he took to leaning against a stone wall to recompose himself, he knew why, in a sense. Death. _The_ Death. It was no secret between their mall group of friends comprised of Raddy, the elf, Azrael, the young princess, Snow White and the lonely little baker boy, Red. The young baker had eagerly told them who his godmother was and had even introduced the fabled Reaper to them once upon a time. They had no secrets between them and he felt comfortable enough to let them in on his family life, which was more just as—if not more—tragic than Raddy's was. But one thing only stuck out, when it came to the two Reapers: Death always made Red follow a list of 'chores' she would need him to do.

Sometimes it was as innoccuous as fetching a bottle of milk from the market for the little old woman who lived with the children at Shoe Orphanage in the Port Town of Nimble, to being as dangerous as sneaking into a dragon's nest and coming out alive with one of its scales for the High Councilmen of the Atlantian Court.

And sometimes, but very rarely, Red would be sent to collect in stead of his godmother. Never once had the boy killed, for that would be too cruel a thing to force the teen into doing in what should be a duty that was hers and hers alone, but it hadn't stopped him from chasing after spirits long detached from their bodies or people whose sands had run out. Red would never kill anyone—it simply wasn't in the boy to murder!

He started walking again, with purpose in his step. He needed to know...he had to know. It couldn't be Red who had murdered Snow!

_But if it was him..._

Raddy's steps faltered.

_If it was him..._

-----------------------------------

The dungeon was a dark and dank place where only those who were to be forgotten were sent. It was a place filled with despair, the smell of decay that never seemed to go away no matter how much time had passed. Something awful had happened once there, beneath the white walls of Snow Castle, many years ago; no one went down there unless they had to.

The soldiers that had found and arrested Red had gone down grudgingly, dragging the kicking and screaming boy by his arms into his prison cell, then tossing him in. The door had slammed hollowly in the near empty dungeon behind, echoing far into the day in the young baker's ears as he sat there, alone and dejected. No one came to see him during the day he had spent in jail—not even to bring him any meals. Luckily for him, he had some chocolate chip cookies in his pocket (they had confiscated his basket—not that he would want to eat any of its contents at the moment, considering something poisoned had been hidden inside), so he was good for the day.

But what of the next day? And the next day? The boy wasn't sure how long he would last in that case. All he could do was to hope things would sort themselves out. Maybe. He had his doubts about something like _this_ would sort itself out on its own. After all, he had been arrested for murder! And not just any ol' murder, but of the crown princess of Saison!

It was well into the night when he heard the first telltale signs of life, which did nothing to reassure the scared and shivering boy who did everything in his power to keep his tears from shedding. He remembered what had happened the last time he had had an all-out bawling session and he would not wish the fate of the blokes that had made him cry on the Kingdom of Saison, just because his godmother was easily ticked and tended towards overreacting.

There were steps, heavy and dull. There were no chinks of chainmail moving or of armor shifting, so it wasn't one of the soldiers back to get him or feed him or for whatever other reason he would need to come down. These were the steps of leather boots against stone. _Who could it be?_ The boy wondered, daring to hope for some gallant rescuer to come for him in this dark and foreboding place. He stood up from where he sat in the corner of his cell and timidly ventured towards the bars, wrapping his slim fingers around the cold, unyielding metal. He peered out from beyond the bars carefully, looking for traces of a person coming into the dungeon.

"Hello?" he called out quietly, though his voice managed to carry out into the gloom all the same. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

No answer.

Red called out again. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Silence.

Red bit his lip, wondering if his imagination was playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be surprising; he had heard horror stories about the Snow Castle dungeon from the locals and what he had heard would cause any decent person to have hallucinations of monsters and ghosts.

"I said is someone—"

"I'm here."

The baker nearly jumped out of his skin when he was surprised by the sudden appearance of a man whose silhouette could be barely made out in the dim light within the dungeon. Backpedalling, he stepped on the hem of his cherry red cape and tripped himself up; falling backwards and landing hard on his bum. Red hissed in pain as he curled up on the dirtied floor, his hands on his injured behind.

"Are you alright, lad?" the stranger asked, hovering near the metal bars, cloaked in enough shadow so that the boy with the cherry red cape couldn't quite make out his features. Randomly, he looked down at the man's feet, hoping that his boots would tell him something of his unexpected visitor. His footwear were clean, with his pants neatly tucked into them; they were made of supple leather, dark like the earth after the rain had drenched it. It was a dark brown often associated with death; newly turned earth to bury the dead...

"...Who are you?" the boy asked, sitting up properly after his fall. His cape had gotten twisted around his legs, so he lent a bit of his attention there, although it was more to keep his hands busy and his nerves from getting the better of him. For some odd reason, this man made him anxious in both a thrilled and frightened way.

The silhouetted man did not reply right away, just standing there, statue-like in his stillness. He shifted onto his left foot, then gave a quiet answer. "Your rescuer..." he began slowly. Red dared to look up hopefully. "...or, perhaps, your executioner." The baker squeaked and nearly hurt himself backing away more. He yelped against when his back met the cold stone wall. "It depends on what you have to say."

A pause.

"And I do believe you have a lot to say, don't you?" the stranger added.

Red glared balefully. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Not even to gain your freedom?" the man countered. Red said nothing, just stared at the floor. "I have one simple question to ask you. Answer it truthfully and I will set you free from this place."

One question with one answer, Red thought. Was that all this person was after? And who was he? Could he really trust him with his life? Would he even keep his end of the bargain? Or was there something else up his proverbial sleeve?

"How do you know I'll tell you the truth?" the young boy asked, suspicion dripping from his tone. His would-be rescuer laughed.

"I doubt you would lie about what I have to ask of you."

True enough. Depending on the question Red just might be willing to tell this person whatever truth he needed to hear. Unless it was about his virginity. Gods, he hated being asked about that. Being mistaken for a girl and then later on being asked if he was a boy was annoying enough without being asked if he had ever slept with anyone yet. Oh, it wasn't as if he would immediately sleep with anyone who asked to bed him, but what did it matter if the person you slept with was a virgin or not? What really matters is the deep feelings of love between two people...

Consequently, Red did believe in saving his first time for that special someone.

_Focus, Red! _The baker mentally chastised himself. _No time to be thinking about that. You can think about your One True Love _after_ you've gotten out of prison!_

"Well, I'm sure you're a busy man. So...ask away," Red stated, bracing himself for whatever inquiry came his way, be they personal, impersonal or...

"Did you kill Snow White?"

..._heart wrenching_. The baker's throat constricted and his mouth went dry as he remembered the scene he had been dragged away from earlier. Her eyes had still been wide open, her mouth agape, as if she were still trying to breathe in some air into her blocked lungs. It was one of the most horrific sights he had seen in all of his young years and something he would always remember. Snow White's unmoving form had burned itself into his mind, a mental scar he would forever carry. He had killed one of his best friends and he would never forgive himself for it.

A lip trembled and brown eyes began to water as the boy began to sniffle, doing his best to hold back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"I...I...killed her!" He confessed. The apple had been his! He had found it and he had delivered it! Smiling and laughing, he handed over Snow White's end to the unsuspecting girl and watched as he did nothing, while she choked to death before his very eyes. "I d-didn't mean t-t-t-to...I didn't know...I didn't want her t-to d-d-d-die...I just wanted to give her s-something...."

It was hard keeping the tears from coming out of his eyes and it showed on how he stuttered on every other word as he did his best to keep his sobs from escaping. His whole body trembled with sorrow and guilt-ridden despair. It was then that Red realized that he deserved to be locked up down there in Snow Castle's dungeon; left alone in the dark to rot away, forgotten by his friends and remembered as a murderer by the masses.

_CREEEEEAK_.

"You didn't do it, did you?" the man asked, interrupting Red's wallowing in self-pity. "At least, not on purpose." The door to the cell was wide open and the stranger stood there with arms crossed, waiting for the baker to pick himself up from the dirty floor. Red stared incredulously, wondering vaguely if he was going to be beaten or killed now that he had blurted out the truth without really thinking it through. This man would be his saviour...or the one to send the final blow. Well, he deserved it, didn't he?

So, why did this man just grab his hand and lift him to his feet? And then drag him out of the cell? And up towards the exit of the dungeon?

Rather than feeling relieved that he was going to be leaving that awful place with his head still on his shoulders, Red ripped his hand away, glaring up at the stranger whose face he still couldn't quite make out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He demanded with all the power of his lungs would allow him.

A brow was raised—well, Red imagined that a brow was being raised, since he couldn't even see his own hand in front of his eyes let alone someone else's eyebrow in the dimness—at his outburts. Were Red not in such a stricken state of grief, he would have wondered at his own behaviour as well.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm helping you escape."

"I'm guilty! I did it! I killed her—"

Red was abruptly slapped across the face, temporarily stunning him into silence as he held his pained cheek with a hand, gingerly.

He could feel it in the air just then. This man was angry; his fury and frustration were almost tangible enough to cut with a knife. The darkened figure standing in front of his with his hand still held up was stiff and looming ever so dangerously above him. The boy swallowed nervously.

"Listen Red Reaper—" Red wondered how he came by his name. "—you did not cause Snow White's death. And she would be sad if she saw you right now, like this. Now stop blaming yourself and start moving, if you want to see the light of day ever again." He grabbed Red's arm again and started pulling roughly, leading the still awestruck baker up the stairs of the dungeon. Once they passed through the door, Red started to panic a little, because he still couldn't see anything, but one glance outside told him that it was night time now and practically all the lights in the castle had bene unlit or had died out.

"Why are you doing this?" the boy asked, still very confused about everything that had just transpired.

For a few moments, Red did not get an answer and as the silence drug out, he thought that he would never get one, but eventually, the stranger opened up.

"I am a huntsman trying to atone for my own sins."

And that was that.

The man had successfully gotten him out of the castle and and far past the outskirts of Icicle. After that, Red had been on his own though. He had accepted, for the time being, that perhaps he wasn't entirely responsible for Snow's murder (but a good part of him could not rule out the fact that he had been in accessory to murder) and allowed himself to be led along quickly through the night. On the edge of town he had been given his basket (more like it had been hastily thrusted into his arms) and practically shoved into the snow-turned-ice into moving. He didn't have a lot of time to get away, after all.

And the supposed huntsman watched him go without turning to look back once. In all of the time that Red had bene alive and doing chores for his godmother, he knew that if you had to make an escape, you made it quickly! Still, as he ran for dear life, trying to avoid the night watch in the Saison area, he had to wonder who that man was.

"He never said his name," Red mused to himself as he ducked behind a tree. A huntsman with sins to atone for...The teen pondered over what kind of sins a man needed to atone for that involved breaking someone out of jail. A total stranger, to boot. But he didn't think of it too much until he was safe at home, being smothered by a worried Death who had been keeping an eye on him from afar.

And as Red ran, Raddy the Brown could only stare at the boy who was his friend, who might have been responsible for his step sister's death, but whom he still set free anyways, because he believed in him.

"It's a bit early to forgive you, Red," Raddy whispered softly, his breath turning into mist in the cool winter air. "But one day...I'll forgive you, because I trust you."


	19. An Unexpected Ally

**CHAPTER 19**

An Unexpected Ally

"AARRUGH! For the love of the OVERPOWER, somebody KILL IT!"

Red smirked.

"GET THIS BLOODY THING AWAY FROM ME!"

Red felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

"Hey, guys, these things aren't so ba--AAARUGH, my KIDNEY!"

Red tried very hard not to giggle as he coaxed the unicorn mare away from her latest victim before she could trample him beneath her silvery cloven hooves. He figured the only way he could be enjoying himself even more than he was now was if he'd been able to watch the costume contest taking place at the other end of the field. Drag queens were so much more amusing to him when he wasn't dressed as one himself. Why Åtrå felt that the heroes' feminine fashion sense ought to be a category for judging, Red had no idea. He was even more mystified as to why Raddy had gone along with him, but, as things stood, he really couldn't complain. For once, no one was making _him_ wear a dress, after all.

And anyway, watching heroic, manly men dodge various equine attempts to kick and gore them was surprisingly entertaining. And not only that, but men who, at any other time and place would thoroughly mock Red's virginity were groveling at his feet in gratitude because of it. He had also discovered that unicorns weren't nearly as bad as he'd remembered them to be. Perhaps it was because he had Lat helping him to control them, or perhaps it was just his tendency to over-dramatize bad memories and blow them way out of proportion.

Like he had with Wolf...

"Men!" a derisive female voice called out, interrupting his thoughts. Red glanced at one of the several female heroes who had shown up for the competition. She was - stereotypically, perhaps - having no difficulty walking among the small unicorn herd, and even seemed to have made friends with one of the beasts. Red had been surprised when the first of the female heroes had stepped up to the interview table, but Lat, who had been with them at the time, had noted philosophically that "Sometimes the one you're meant for isn't who you expect it to be." No one else had seen any reason why Snow's One True Love couldn't be a woman, and they hadn't actually specified a preferred gender when they'd advertised the tryouts, so they had accepted the few ladies who had applied along with their male counterparts, and that was all that had been said of the matter.

Red could tell the Hero who'd been kicked in the kidney and who he'd subsequently rescued from trampling wanted to retort, but seemed to think better of it. Red silently approved the man's discretion - it certainly wouldn't be wise to annoy someone who was in the woman's position, with adoring unicorns practically at her beck and call.

Unicorns were fairly useful magical beasts - if you had a use for a creature that could be employed as a sort of morality barometer. Though the animals would only allow pure virgins to touch them, they were tolerant of moral non-virgins. That is to say, they wouldn't allow themselves to be approached fully by a married woman, for example, but they also wouldn't attempt to harm her either - if she was faithful to her husband. The same went for men too, of course; faithful husbands had little to fear from the horned beasts, but if a unicorn sensed a person had been taking multiple partners, that person had better be careful about getting too close.

No one running the contest had any illusions about the virginal state most, if not all, hopefuls would be in upon applying for the tryouts - thus, the unicorns. With their help, they could be fairly certain which applicants were more likely to remain faithful to Snow, and which might be inclined to warm someone else's bed if the whim struck. Avund was acting official and keeping careful track of the beasts' reactions to each contestant that entered the corral. He would compare notes with Red and Lat occasionally, when they weren't too busy coaxing a vexed equine away from particularly offensive candidates.

Things progressed fairly smoothly into the afternoon, until a commotion from the goblin pen caught Red's attention. He looked over in curiosity at first, then in rising horror as he took in the horde of twisted monsters that seemed to have appeared from nowhere and were attacking the people on that end of the field. They were like nothing Red had ever seen before, and Red had seen a lot of horrible things in his twenty-five years. He stood rooted to the spot for several minutes and stared helplessly. Lat, Avund, and the ten heroes currently testing in the unicorn coral ran off towards the battle as soon as they spotted it. Red watched them go, briefly pondered joining them, and then smacked himself in the face for such a reckless thought. He turned round and ran in the _other_ direction, towards the drag competition and _away_ from the fighting.

It turned out the only reason he didn't notice the battle going on in the midst of the cross-dressing was because of...well, the cross-dressing. Yards of velvet and silk fluttered in the breeze, and sunlight reflected poignantly off of pearls and diamonds, dazzling the eyes and confusing the senses. Or at least that was what he told himself afterward.

Anyway, the level of chaos only really became apparent once Red was smack in the middle of it, and nearly had his arm off by an enormous sword wielded by a messy-haired blond hero dressed in a purple satin dress decorated with an enormous pink bow in the back. He didn't even have time to shout an insult at the fashion-challenged hero before he was distracted by a blow to his back that sent him sprawling. He lay stunned in the grass for a split second before rolling to his side, and not a moment too soon - the first blow was followed deftly by the stabbing motion of a short, rusty object that might have at one time been a sword, directly where his head had been not a second before.

Squeaking in terror, Red scrambled to his feet and _ran_. Though he had inadvertently run into the middle of a somewhat large battle, so he didn't do nearly as much _running_ as he would have liked and spent quite a lot more time _dodging_ and _evading_ swords and knives from both sides instead. It was a gallant lot of heroes they had gathered, to be sure, but it was very clear they were all used to fighting alone, and hadn't either the practice or the patience to watch out for those who might not be threatening them as they swung around their enormous swords.

Finally, after dodging several sword swings that would have otherwise swiped off his hair - had it still been long enough to braid - Red tugged a small and little-used knife from his boot. It wouldn't do much good against the frightening monsters and the flailing heroes, but it was something, at least.

Or so he thought until he stumbled upon the ugliest of the creatures he had seen thus far. They were all vaguely man-shaped and man-sized, though this one was pushing the limits of both descriptions. Tiny red eyes glared angrily from beneath an enormous, stone-colored brow. Directly between the evil little eyes was positioned a lump of flesh that might or might not have been a nose. It could just as easily have been a misshapen hunk of cheese. The creature's round face stretched as it sized him up, a mouth so large as to border on the ridiculous opening to reveal a long red tongue and two rows of flat, yellow, mostly broken teeth.

As Red stared in dumb horror, the thing let out a terrible shriek that a more subjective listener might have mistaken for a cry of despair, before lunging directly at the baker. Red found himself somehow rooted to the spot, too frightened by the impossibly ugly creature bearing down on him to even begin to think that it might be a good idea to run. At the last minute, though, he managed to get his feet working again, and stepped to one side to avoid his attacker. He even managed to coordinate himself enough to lash out with his knife, though it did little more than scrape unpleasantly along the gravel-colored skin of the thing's arm.

Neither as slow nor as dumb as the beast appeared, it caught him with a back swipe of one meaty fist as it passed, sending him sprawling once more on the ground and knocking the air completely out of him. Red choked and gasped, trying to refill his lungs. It felt like he was trying to fill them with fire instead of air. He could feel the ground tremble as his attacker approached him once more, and looked over his shoulder in despair, tears welling in his eyes as he realized the futility of his situation - all the heroes were busy fighting their own battles; there was no one to rescue him from his hopeless situation. He was about to die, smushed into the ground by the enormous feet of a scary, ugly monster, or possibly consumed, eaten alive, torn to ribbons by the horrible creature's jagged teeth and yellow claws...

And then a tall figure interposed itself between Red and his attacker, bright silver sword flashing as he moved. Red watched, still gasping for air, as the hero dashed at the beast head-on, then dodged to one side at the last possible second, bringing his sword up as the creature swung its head around to follow the motion. It was much slower than the lithe figure that had approached it, however. The man was around behind it in one smooth motion, and with a seemingly effortless flick of the sword had beheaded the lumbering thing, effectively stopping it in its tracks.

Time seemed to slow down in a real life example of the bad literary cliché as the now headless monster toppled, giving Red a clear look at his rescuer for the first time. Brown eyes met amber as the barrier of the beast's body fell, and it was all Red could do to keep the tears of desperation he'd summoned moments before from spilling forth.

"Are you alright, Red?" The concern in Wolf's voice matched the look on his face as he quickly approached the prone baker, reaching down with his left hand to offer Red a boost to his feet. Red took the offered hand gratefully and allowed himself to be swung up. He wasn't sure when the motion turned from a simple act of standing to him flinging both his arms around Wolf's neck and burying his face in the collar of the man's leather jacket.

He expected Wolf to return the embrace, but was surprised and more disappointed than he would admit when the silver-haired man shoved him away instead. He stumbled backwards, and before he could even yell at Wolf for ruining the moment, a large white unicorn interposed itself between him and the other man and began making threatening gestures at Wolf with its horn.

"What are you doing!?" Red demanded of the creature. "Knock it off!"

Funny how just moments ago he'd been afraid for his own life.

Its ear twitched, so he knew it had heard him, but it didn't back down. Wolf was glancing between Red and the big equine, concern apparent on his features...unsurprising, considering the unicorn had its horn pointed straight towards his heart. It could skewer him in the blink of an eye if it wanted.

"Ah, there you are!" a young woman gripping a blood-stained longsword in one hand appeared as if out of nowhere and vaulted onto the unicorn's back. "No time to worry about promiscuous men, my sweet, there are much fouler creatures afoot!"

The unicorn shook its head rather like a dog, causing its silky mane to flutter artfully into the air before once again settling against its neck. Whirling around towards the thickest part of the fighting, the unicorn cantered off, its heroine "Hi-yai-yai"-ing a war-call as they went.

"Come on, Red," Wolf said urgently, taking Red by the arm and tugging him along after. He dragged Red along for a few strides before the baker finally managed to coordinate his legs, and they both began running - following in the wake of the warrior woman and her mighty unicorn steed.

"Wait, Wolf, what...?" Red began as he saw what lay before them, but stopped abruptly when he realized where the monsters had congregated - on the hill where the dwarves and Raddy had relocated Snow White for the duration of the competition. He could see showers of brown sparkles flare up with increasing frequency, and realized what Wolf had already - Raddy was in trouble.

He had dropped his knife when he'd been knocked down, and hadn't gotten around to replacing his supply of rock-hard treacle muffins that had disappeared last summer - not that they would be much help now anyway, as he didn't even have his basket on him - but he still shut his mouth and moved his legs even faster. Somehow, with Wolf at his side, his on inability to defend even himself didn't seem to matter. If they could get to Raddy quick enough, somehow everything would be alright.

It had to be.

Unlike the wildly flailing Heroes, Wolf was very aware that there was someone near him whom he had to protect. Red still did his best to stay out of his way while staying as close as possible, though; no sense in taking chances. The nightmarish horror of the situation was offset by the sight of the dashing silver-haired swordsman who was gallantly keeping the monsters at bay.

For a while, it looked like they might make it. Wolf seemed tireless in his efforts, slaying one foul creature of the shadows after another all the while keeping Red safe. But though the silver-haired man was - in Red's estimation - an excellent swordsman, they were still outnumbered, ten to one at least.

After what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, a small, speedy, incredibly ugly creature managed to knock the heavy longsword from Wolf's hands. Red watched it arc through the air as if in slow motion, spinning in a beautiful and deadly spiral that ended with an abrupt "thud!" as the hilt of the sword knocked solidly into the head of a blue-haired hero wearing a long blue cape. Red was distracted from watching the results of that unfortunate incident by Wolf, who grabbed him about the shoulders with one arm and tugged him close to his side, shoving him somewhat behind him while still hanging on tight. The taller man had produced a short, lethal-looking knife from somewhere, and was gripping it so hard in his right hand that his knuckles were turning white.

Red clung to Wolf, his heart in his throat - this was it, then. He was going to die in the middle of a horrific battlefield, ripped from the arms of the guy he was developing a full-blown crush on, and torn to ragged pieces by the rotting teeth and vile claws of nightmarish creatures the likes of which he had never seen before - and would never see again, because he would be dead. Oh, his godmother was going to have a thing or two to say about this, he could hear her now...

The creature lunged, opening its large mouth and shrieking in victory as it did so. Wolf's arm tightened further about his shoulders and he dodged to one side, pulling Red along with him. And at that exact moment, a terrific clap of thunder sounded and was followed immediately by streaks of purple-colored lightning. An electric bolt struck the attacking creature full on, dissolving it immediately into a large pile of ash. Red gaped and stared at it for a heartbeat before looking up sharply and staring around, eyes wide.

All over the field, where once hordes of hideous monsters had stood, only piles of ash remained. The heroes he could see were staring around as he was, equally dumbfounded by this sudden and unexpected reprieve. A light wind stirred, bringing the scent of singed flesh and burnt atmosphere to Red's nose.

"OOOOH~HOHOHOHOHOHO~!" the sound of ear-shattering, tinkling fairy laughter filled the sudden silence that had followed the thunderclap, and both Red and Wolf - still holding one another tightly - whipped around to look for the source of the sound.

Standing next to Raddy at the summit of the small hill was possibly the last person Red would have ever expected to turn up here. He looked far different from the last time Red had encountered him - his sinfully long, perfectly groomed purple hair had been cropped short, and he had replaced his slinky little black dress with a pair of sensible black trousers and matching shirt, but the baker knew that face, those ears, that _voice_, anywhere.

At the summit of the small hill, only a stones-throw away from where the baker stood, stood the Wicked Fairy.

Red screamed and hid behind Wolf.

Not that it made much difference, because the Wicked Fairy was preoccupied.

"Radamanthus," he said, turning to regard his son sternly.

"Father," Raddy responded, much more quietly; Red almost couldn't hear him. He could see his friend's long ears twitching as he suppressed various emotions, few of which could be happy ones.

"What in Apple's bad name is going on? Where is your mother--"

"How _dare_ you!" a new voice interrupted, also conveniently answering the wicked Fae's question. Helen deTrois soon followed, appearing in a flash of yellow light on the far side of Snow White's glass coffin from where Wicked and Raddy stood.

"Ah, there you are." Wicked sounded delighted. "My dear Helen, I --" the purple fairy was interrupted a second time, this time by a vicious-looking spell thrown at him by the beautiful queen. He blocked it with one of his own, his amiable expression slipping away as he scowled. Then, faster than the eye could follow, he was around the coffin on Helen's side, and had grasped the woman tightly, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close, trapping her, and using the hand on the other to tilt her chin to look him in the eye. His expression changed again, from one of irritation to one of surprise, to horrified realization, and finally, to nothing at all.

Though Red didn't see him do anything, there was a distinct sound of glass shattering, and Helen deTrois gasped loudly, the sound of a woman who was only just getting the air she needed after too long trapped without. She sagged in the tall fairy's arms, still gasping for air, clinging to the fabric of his shirt with numb fingers. He held her quietly, patiently, waiting for her to catch her breath.

At length, she pulled away, and he released her. "Wicked? What are you...where am I?" She looked first at her ex-husband, then around her at the now quiet battlefield. When her gaze fell to the glass coffin at her feet, she let out a small cry and dropped to the ground beside it, hands going to the still shoulders of her step-daughter slumbering within.

"Snow? Snow White! Wake up! What are you doing, child? Wake up!" her voice grew more desperate with each unsuccessful attempt to rouse the sleeping girl, and when she looked up once more, blue eyes searching for the violet ones of her ex-husband. There were tears streaming down her face. "What happened to her? Why won't she wake up?"

"You cursed her, I believe," Wicked said mildly, without emotion. His gaze moved from his distraught ex-wife to the oblivious girl in the coffin, dead, as it were, to the world. "It's quite a brilliant curse, I must say. Very finely crafted. She looks quite dead."

"Wh-what do you mean? I would never...! Not to Snow!" the disbelief in her voice was as genuine as the despair.

"You were cursed as well, dear heart," the purple fairy murmured, crossing his arms and gazing down at both Helen and the sleeping girl in the coffin. "By an amateur, it must be said. How in the world did you let someone slap you with such a clumsy spell? You must have been asleep, or drunk, or..." he trailed off, tactful for once in his life.

She nodded, slowly, turning back to her step-daughter. Gently, she brushed a lock of hair off the girl's forehead.

"I don't remember," she said slowly. "I don't remember what happened to me, or..." she trailed off, swallowed, continued, "or what I did to Snow. I have no idea how to undo what I've done..." her last words became a soft wail.

"Ah, but I do!" said Wicked, the cheer in his voice contrasting harshly with the despair in hers. Curses were his area of expertise, after all. "She'll be fine once her True Love comes along and wakes her up with Love's First Kiss. Right, Radamanthus?"

The brown fairy, who had been standing, forgotten, off to one side, jumped at the sound of his name. "Um," he said.

"Raddy!" Helen looked up and saw her son properly for what was apparently the first time. She stood from where she knelt by Snow's side and flung herself at him, embracing him joyfully. He hugged her back, wrapping his arms tightly around her slender shoulders.

"Why the hell are you still wearing that Overpower-damned mask, Radamanthus? You look like you're wearing a bloody shield on your face!" Having used up his (very small) touching moment quota for the week, Wicked was back to his usual temperament.

"Um," Raddy said again, intelligently.

"Yes, Raddy, it was fine when you were younger, but you're seventeen now-"

"Twenty-seven," Wicked interrupted.

"I--what?"

"He's twenty-seven. Imagine not knowing how old your own son is."

"I'm twenty-eight," Raddy muttered. Wicked ignored him.

"...That's very funny, coming from you, mister 'All-He-Needs-Is-A-Little-Tough-Love'," Helen shot back, pulling away from her son and planting her fists on her hips irritably.

"It was all he did need! Not all that coddling nonsense you always insisted on-"

"He was _five_ when he started daycare! You don't let _five-year-olds_ wander through the Fae Forest by themselves!"

"He _is_ a Fae! That's where Fae _wander._ You were always too over-protective--"

"One of us had to be! I don't remember you ever coming to the rescue when he came home with a black eye and a broken tooth--"

"Lads fight! Builds character."

"--Or when he came home half-drowned because the other kids were pushing his face in the mud!"

"I took care of that, didn't I?"

"By putting superglue on their wings? Very mature."

Wicked snorted in amusement at that particular memory, and Helen scowled. Noticing her expression, he schooled his into one that approximated contrite. "Yes. Well. That was a long time ago."

Helen crossed her arms.

"Anyway! We're not here to argue about what's past. Radamanthus, take off that ridiculous mask and kiss the young woman so we can all go home already."

"Wh-what?"

"Did I stutter? Give her a kiss, boy, so we can be finished with this whole embarrassing affair." He glanced over his shoulder idly and glared at a pair of heroes who had been inching up behind him, stopping them in their tracks.

"But...She's my _sister--_"

"_Step-_sister. You're not related. Don't argue with me."

"But she's a p-princess! She's supposed to marry a prince! Or at least a hero!"

The look the Wicked Fairy gave his son would have caused most heroes to wet themselves in terror. The remaining few with iron bladder control would probably have spontaneously combusted, and then wet themselves.

Raddy gulped.

"Are you trying to tell me that _my_ son isn't good enough for a sodding _princess?_" the purple fairy all but hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Let me tell you something, my boy. You are the equal to any _princess._ Your mother is a bloody _queen_, for Apple's sake! And your _father--_" he cut off abruptly, as though it should be obvious what his father was, and therefore redundant to spell out. "I know you didn't have the most ideal childhood, but you're an adult now, so it's time to put the ghosts of your youth aside and _act _like one. Starting with that mask."

Raddy's spine was ramrod straight, his long ears and brown wings held stiff and still, his hands clenched into fists. He and Wicked stared at each other for several long moments before Raddy slowly, reluctantly, lifted a hand to his face and tugged the mask off.

Red had always suspected Raddy was handsome - with a father like Wicked and a mother like Helen, how could he not be? He was still shocked, though, at the resemblance his friend had to his infamous father. Cover him in purple paint and replace his kind expression with a perverted leer, and son could easily be mistaken for father.

Wicked smiled. Raddy scowled.

"Go on, son," Helen said softly, abruptly breaking the tension. Raddy looked at his mother, nodded, and smiled. Heart pounding, and ignoring his father now, he approached the glass coffin containing the sleeping form of his step-sister, the woman he'd been hopelessly in love with for over half his life. Kneeling down, he looked upon her still, peaceful face for a moment before bending, slowly and uncertainly, to brush his lips ever so carefully against hers.

He could feel her breath as he pulled away, warm and alive. His heart was well and truly hammering in his chest now, and he watched with equal parts anticipation and dread as a soft, rosy glow appeared in her pale cheeks. She wrinkled her nose slightly and fluttered her lashes as she slowly opened her eyes for the first time in ten years...

He watched as Snow White's dark brown eyes, blurry with sleep, gained focus as she took in his face.

"Mmm, Raddy...?" She blinked a few times and sniffed, a puzzled expression crossing her features. Suddenly, all at once, her eyes filled with tears and she sat up, nearly knocking their heads together, and flung her arms round his neck.

"Raddy, it was _awful!_" she cried, clinging to him as though she meant to never let go. "I was having the most awful nightmare! I was like a ghost, and I was watching as Momma tried to have Red _executed_ for _killing_ me, but he _didn't_, and no matter how hard I tried to tell people that I wasn't dead no one could hear me, and they were going to _kill_ Red and I couldn't do anything to stop it, and I--" she interrupted herself with a hiccup, then stopped talking altogether and simply cried into his neck.

He didn't know what to say to that, or if, indeed, there was anything he _could_ say. Fortunately, once he'd put his arms around her, she didn't seem to expect him to say much of anything at all.


	20. Home Again

**CHAPTER 20**

Home Again

"Seriously, Azrael, you can take it off now," Red muttered to the elf.

"But I'm having so much fun!" Azrael pouted, bouncing gently in his seat next to Red.

"Azrael, you look like a _woman._"

"I know! Isn't it neat?"

"Azrael, people are _staring!_"

"Being stared at never hurt anyone!" the elf declared.

Red groaned and hid his face in his hands.

An enormous feast had been organized with utmost haste at Snow Castle upon the awakening of the beloved princess of the realm by the near-forgotten adopted prince of the realm. All the heroes had been invited to attend. After all, it would have been impolite to send them all away without _some_ sort of compensation. A hot meal and a louse-free bed was better than most had had in weeks, so no one was complaining.

The serving staff had been located and put to work with utmost speed. Even though the castle had been in disrepair for years, it was gleaming and perfect by supper-time. Magic helped.

The evening's first order of business was to announce the engagement of the kingdom's princess and heir to the throne, Snow White, with the reigning Queen's son, Radamanthus the Brown. The evening's second order of business had been a public apology to one Red Inlaw-Reaper, who had been falsely accused of murdering the princess ten years previous. The evening's third order of business had been, naturally, dinner.

Azrael had retained his pink gown and dainty slippers, and had somehow, despite all odds, managed to escape from the battle free of blood-splatters and mud-smears. Red had tried to convince him to take it off and put on some proper clothes for the feast, but the elf was having none of it. While he basked in the adoring stares of dumbstruck heroes unaware of his true nature, Red tried to pretend he didn't know the pink-clad drag queen and spent most of the evening talking quietly with Wolf.

He learned a lot about the silver-haired man that he had never previously suspected. Wolf had had fencing lessons as a child, apparently, though he confessed he much preferred brawling with his fists or a knife to hacking and slicing at people with swords. Wolf also, despite all appearances, loved to read, and enjoyed all sorts of books on a variety of topics, from history to fiction to poetry.

Red was an indifferent reader at best (unless it was a book of recipes), but he listened to Wolf talk, interested despite himself, happy to be learning a little about the man who'd been interested in him for so long.

The feast wound down, and tables were moved to make way for dancing. Plenty of ladies had come up from the town and surrounding area, so there were ample partners for the heroes. Exhausted as he was, when Wolf looked at him with a tentative smile and offered his hand, Red could do nothing besides smile back and place his hand in Wolf's. He allowed the taller man to pull him into the center of the spinning couples, and lead him into a whirling waltz.

The last time they had danced together seemed so long ago, though it was only months. And so much had changed between them since then, it was hard to believe. Red knew he wouldn't be slapping Wolf and storming away from him tonight.

The waltz progressed and ended, and another began. Pressed close to Wolf, moving together as one, Red felt happier than he had in a long time. Wolf's hands were warm and gentle, his smile inviting, his eyes beautiful and kind. Red could feel himself blushing, but that wasn't even such a bad feeling anymore...

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. When Red looked back at it later, he remembered feelings more than events; happiness, contentedness, relief, excitement, and just a little, tiny bit of apprehension.

There were so many heroes, even Snow Castle's spacious interior did not have enough guest rooms for them all to bed separately. Friends and acquaintances were to share rooms, and somehow, Red had ended up with Wolf.

That was where the apprehension came in; he liked Wolf, and he was attracted to him, and he thought maybe, just maybe, tonight might be The Night. They walked slowly back to the room Raddy had shown them earlier, arms round each other's waists, leaning into one another, each quietly enjoying the other's presence.

When they got to their shared room, Wolf kissed him quickly, hesitantly, on the mouth. Red blinked and smiled.

"I'll take the floor," Wolf said, utterly confusing him.

"Ah..." he couldn't really think of anything to say to that, and watched in confusion as Wolf undressed, wrapped himself in a blanket, took up one of the many pillows from the bed, and stretched out on the floor at the foot of the bed. Red blinked several times, his tired mind struggling to process what had just happened. He stopped wondering a moment later, when a gentle, quiet snore emerged from under the blanket.

As exhausted as he was, Wolf was clearly worse than that. After a moment's hesitation (and a thorough swallowing of half-formed disappointment), Red undressed as well. He hesitated again when he was ready to crawl in bed, looking from the (very) big feather bed to the floor where Wolf was curled up. After a moment, he shrugged at himself and grabbed a pillow. Pulling the heavy comforter off the bed, he lay down next to Wolf and dragged the comforter over them both.

-----------

Red awoke slowly in a tangle of limbs, only half of which were his. It was still dark in the room - the heavy drapes were drawn over the window, so he had no idea what time it was; he could guess, though. He'd been waking up early for all of his adult life. His body knew when the sun had risen, even when he didn't.

But he didn't have to get up to bake anything this morning, and Wolf was still sound asleep. He'd draped an arm over Red sometime during the night, and their legs were twined together. Heart pounding, he carefully extracted his legs, straightened them, and rolled over, taking extra care not to dislodge Wolf's arm - that could stay where it was. Once he was safely rolled over, he settled his back against Wolf's stomach, tucked Wolf's arm under his, and went back to sleep.

--------------

Wolf's eyes flew open. There was a body curled up against his; a head was tucked firmly under his chin, and his arm was draped over the waist of said body, his hand firmly trapped in two others to prevent removal. He blinked several times. Had he somehow crawled into the bed in his sleep? No. He was still on the floor. That must mean...

...Red had joined him.

_Red_ had joined _him._

He was spooning with Red.

Red was awake. He could tell; something about the man's breathing clued him in. He was awake, pressed tightly against all available surfaces of Wolf's body, and _holding his hand_.

Red noticed Wolf was no longer asleep, for he rolled over carefully, slipping his right arm around Wolf's waist, and bringing up his left between them to rest on Wolf's collar.

"G'morning," he murmured shyly.

Had they...? Last night? And he couldn't remember? For a moment, Wolf panicked. He'd done it with Red, _finally_ done it with Red, and he couldn't remember? No. They hadn't. They couldn't have done. Wolf remembered the dinner and the party well enough. He remembered returning to the room, kissing Red goodnight, and going to sleep.

"Morning," Wolf murmured back, stroking a careful, almost disbelieving hand down Red's back. There; Red was still wearing his shorts. Prudish though he knew the baker to be, he couldn't imagine him hopping out of bed after sex and pulling his shorts back on. That would be ridiculous, even for him.

Red shifted slightly, lifted his face, and kissed Wolf's jaw. That tiny, gentle gesture sent a jolt of sensation right to Wolf's groin, and he had to choke back a groan. This situation had the potential to become very bad, very quickly.

But he didn't shift away.

Red, unaware of the terrified thoughts he was inciting in Wolf, snuggled closer. This was really, really nice. He didn't know why he'd never done it before. Wolf had had a bath the day before in preparation for the dinner; the stench of mud and blood and battle was gone; only Wolf remained. That ever-so-slight scent of tobacco mingling with the smell of leather and of his skin...Red had never thought of skin as having a smell before, but Wolf's had one, and it was very, very nice...

He was more interested than alarmed when he realized he was becoming aroused; actually, it was rather exciting. He'd felt this way before, briefly, but never with someone he'd felt so...confident of. Looking up, Red met Wolf's eyes. The other man was gazing at him intently, his expression serious. Red returned the look with one of his own, for as long as he could stand, before raising his face to Wolf's and kissing him.

When Red pressed the obvious beginnings of an arousal against him, Wolf almost lost complete control then and there. His whole body was on fire in an instant, desire and passion flooding his system as he kissed Red hungrily, pulling him closer still, wanting to feel as much of his lithe body as he could.

A knock on the bedroom door startled the two apart, and a moment later, an energetic princess bounced into the room and flopped on top of the pair of them with an enthusiastic, "Rise and shiiiiine, sleepy-heads! It's a beautiful morning! No sense wasting it in bed!"

"Good morning, Snow," Red's voice was strangled, like he had something blocking his throat. In actuality, he did have something stuck in there - an angry reproof for the newly restored-to-life princess. She had always had terrible timing in the past; of course, now she had ten years to make up for. Clearly, she was getting started quickly and thoroughly.

"Ah...good morning, Princess," Wolf echoed, his voice as strangled as Red's, but for slightly different reasons; he hadn't been so aroused since..._ever_, and after ten years of abstinence, he had been so, _so_ close to finally breaking that particular record. He wanted to break something, but there was nothing suitable nearby to break.

"Come on come on come on!" she enthused, tugging at Red and pulling him upright easily, despite his resistance. "Put on some clothes, Red! It's breakfast time!"

The cold air of the chamber and Snow's enthusiastic, cheerful chatter were like a dash of ice water straight to the libido. Dumbly, Red allowed Snow to dress him, lifting his arms dutifully so she could tug his shirt on, quietly taking his trousers from her when she handed them to him and putting those on. Next she handed him some clean socks, and a vest, and a sweater...

Wolf watched in frustrated silence; each article of clothing Snow piled onto Red pulled him farther and farther away from the warm, delightful encounter they'd been about to have. Who knew when he'd have another opportunity like the one she had just stolen from beneath his nose?

"Alright, Mister Wolf, it's your turn now!" Snow White said cheerfully once Red was comfortably dressed and groomed. She returned to the pile of blankets and comforter under which Wolf was still concealed and grabbed his wrist, tugging him upright.

"Woah, wait!" Wolf exclaimed, shocked at the strength in the girl's hands. He tried jerking his wrist from her grip, but had no success. "I can dress myself--" he started, grabbing at the blanket as it began to slip dangerously low.

"It's okay, I don't mind!" Snow responded, completely oblivious as to why Wolf might want her to leave him be. "Up you get, now, time's a'wastin'!"

"That's really not necessary--"

"Snow, leave him alone, _please,_" Red tried to intervene, but she ignored him, pulling Wolf completely upright. There was a split second of heart-wrenching terror shared between the two men as the blanket nearly slipped out of Wolf's grasp, but the silver-haired man caught it at the last second and tugged it firmly around his hips.

"Snow! There you are! What are you doing!?" Raddy was suddenly in the doorway, staring at the scene in the bedroom with dawning comprehension. He saw his two friends looking flushed and frustrated, and Snow standing between them, beaming happily, a proverbial fountain of ice water.

"I'm saying good morning to Red and Wolf, silly!" Snow informed Raddy as though she thought it was quite silly indeed that he couldn't see that for himself. "The dwarves aren't going to save them any breakfast if they don't come down soon, you know. Giri said so!"

Raddy sighed and resisted the urge to smack his face with the palm of his hand. "You know Girighet just wants as much of the food as he can get for himself, Snow. There'll be plenty for Red and Wolf whenever they decide to join us."

Snow huffed at this reproof but brushed it off easily enough. Taking Red's hand, she tugged him towards the door and away from Wolf. "We'll just be downstairs, Mister Wolf," she told him with a smile before disappearing down the hall, dragging Red behind her.

Wolf scowled. Raddy looked embarrassed.

"Do you...uh...want me to wait for you?"

"I'll catch up."

"Ah...alright."

When Wolf entered the kitchen several minutes later, Red was seated at a long table on a bench, squished between Snow and Lat. The girl and the dwarf smiled cheerfully and waved upon noticing him, and Red blushed and looked down at his plate.

"Heeeeey, Wolf, I heard you finally scored!" Åtrå greeted with a filthy smirk.

"From a reliable source?" Wolf asked, unfazed, as he took a seat next to the redhead and reached for a plate.

"I don't know...couple of the guys from the Heroes in Black guild saw the two of you headed off together."

Across the table, Red choked on a muffin.

Wolf snorted in amusement and helped himself to a pile of pancakes. "If the guys from the Heroes in Black said so, it must be true."

"LIES!" Red shouted, true to his nature, slamming the muffin down on the tabletop. "Uh, I mean..." he said more softly, blushing fiercely when all eyes in the kitchen turned to him.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Vrede muttered to Lat, who nodded.

"Shut up, _Fred!_" Red hissed.

Vrede smirked. "So, how many times did you two do it?"

"We didn't -- I mean --" Red sputtered.

"What he's saying is, we were both pretty tired," Wolf interrupted helpfully, between bites of pancake.

"So you only did it once?" Åtrå asked.

"No!"

"You did it more than once?" Åtrå pressed, turning his filthy leer to towards the flustered Red.

"No! I mean, we didn't--Shut up!"

Red returned to eating his muffin in sullen silence and wouldn't say anything more, regardless of how he was teased. Wolf fell silent as well, though he smiled mysteriously from time to time at various insinuations thrown his way.

The dwarves eventually lost interest in teasing Red and Wolf, and the breakfast-time conversation turned to other, less personally sensitive topics. Every once in a while Red would look up and meet Wolf's eyes. Wolf would smile and Red would blush and look away. Lat would beam and Åtrå would leer, but nothing further was said.

With his chore in Maple Town finished and Snow White saved from eternal slumber, Red was eager to go home. It had been over a month since he had set out on what had sounded like a simple errand to rescue a miller girl from uncertain peril. Somehow that "simple errand" had ended up being much more complicated than he could have imagined.

Snow was disappointed that he was leaving so soon, but recovered admirably once he promised to visit her again in the spring, after he'd had a chance to recover from his latest set of "adventures."

Even so, it was still late in the afternoon by the time he finally managed to take his leave. Azrael had decided to escort him back through the mountains, though he had reliable reports that Cuddles the Balrog had long since departed for mountains less well-traveled. This time, though, instead of riding with Azrael on the elf's big stallion, he settled in behind Wolf on the other of Azrael's two horses. The journey up and down again was made quickly on those noble steeds, and the three men parted ways in Maple Town.

Whereas winter had just been beginning when Red had set out, it was in full swing now. The roads were clear of snow, but it was piled high to either side, and as they walked, snowflakes began to float lightly down from the dove-grey sky. It reminded Red of the morning they'd walked together after Wolf had rescued him from the perverted orange fairy, only better, because he was going _home_ rather than returning to an insane noble's castle...

Somewhere along the way as they walked together, their hands met and their fingers intertwined. As the snow began to fall more thickly, their hands broke apart as if by some unspoken agreement and Wolf wrapped an arm and part of his coat around Red's shoulders, drawing him close.

They walked like that for some time, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. The walk went by faster than it ever had; the treetops of the Fruity Forest came into view much sooner than Red was expecting, and the boughs, branches, and trunks soon followed.

Wolf stopped walking just before they reached the shade of the trees. "I'd offer to walk you all the way, but..."

"Yeah."

Wolf had told him what had happened the last time he'd dared to enter into the Fuzzy Forest of Forbidden Fruits. He'd had a run-in with the forest's guardian demon, exchanged a few words, and wound up with a toothache that had taken a month to dissipate. He was lucky he hadn't needed any fillings. Once upon a time, Red would have been delighted to hear that Wolf had gotten his just desserts. Now though, he didn't want Wolf to have to go through that again.

"Well, it's practically my doorstep, so it's not really a big deal." Red tried, mostly successfully, to laugh it off. His arm remained firmly about Wolf's waist, though.

"Does this mean I should kiss you before you go inside?" Wolf asked, smirking gently. Red flushed and ducked his head, but smiled. The taller man shifted around so that he was standing in front of him and tilted Red's chin up with a finger. Red blushed even harder, but went up on his tiptoes to lessen the distance between them even so. Wolf smiled as he leaned down, and Red closed his eyes in anticipation...

...And jumped, startled, when Wolf suddenly pulled away shouting.

"Thrice bedamned _mongrel!_"

Heart hammering from the unexpected ruckus, Red stared in disbelief as Wulf the dog danced agilely out of the way of Wolf the man's clumsy attempt to catch and strangle him, barking wildly the entire time. When Wulf leapt at him, Red yelped and tried to scramble out of the way, but was knocked down by the pup's momentum and weight. He swore as Wulf licked his face before leaping away once more, and scrambled back to his feet, only to discover...

"YOU BLOODY CONNIVING THIEF! GIVE THAT BACK!"

Completely ignoring him, Wulf dashed down the path into the forest, Red's basket clutched firmly in his mouth.

Red was torn - set to chase after the thieving canine, he turned back to stare guiltily at Wolf.

"Go get your basket." The silver-haired man sighed, tucking his hands dejectedly into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I'll see you soon."

Upon hearing that, Red smiled at Wolf and turned away from him toward the forest, and ran after the interfering puppy and his basket with all his might.


	21. Epilogue

"That's not how it went, is it?" came the question.

"I don't know. That looks about right," was the response.

The angel looked up from the scene before her to stare at her counterpart with narrowed eyes. The demon blinked innocently.

"I'm almost _positive_ something else was supposed to happen," the angel insisted, turning her gaze briefly back down to the world below.

"Are you unhappy with the result?"

"What? Oh, heavens no. It's just..." the angel trailed off. "It doesn't sit right. I can't quite put my finger on it..." as she spoke, she stood and wandered away from the parlor table towards the Library, where the demon had left her writing things. Her counterpart sat for several minutes, quietly finishing the last of her cream soda, before following.

Kiwi was shuffling loose papers around, reading a sentence here, a paragraph there. When she noticed Apple she looked up and shoved the papers in her face. "Here, look, see? I was right. It's because you didn't finish it all the way. You _know_ it's dangerous to leave stories unfinished!"

Apple blinked calmly at the papers presented to her, glanced over the last few paragraphs, and shrugged. "But it all turned out alright, and that's what matters, isn't it? The princess _and_ the queen get to live Happily Ever After."

Kiwi frowned. "Yes, and I'm happy for them both, but _still..._"

"Angel, angel," the demon smiled softly. "You worry too much!" she gently took the papers from Kiwi's hands, straightened them lovingly, and moved towards her desk, where she kept her Book. She picked it up and carefully tucked the papers in at the end, nestling them between the last page and the back cover. Closing the Book and setting it reverently aside, she turned back to Kiwi, who was watching her with an expression not unlike a pout.

"Now, didn't you tell me you've been working on something? Is it finished? May I see it?" the demon batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at the angel, whose disapproving frown eased somewhat as she allowed herself to be distracted. After rummaging briefly in her own pile of books and papers, she came up with a sheaf and presented it quietly to the demon, who smiled her thanks.

The two sat quietly for some time while Apple read and Kiwi wrote. Eventually, the demon finished reading the last page, and couldn't restrain herself from laughing out loud.

"Angel, this is brilliant! I can't wait!" she said, shuffling the papers about in order to re-read a paragraph or two near the beginning.

Kiwi smiled a smile that would have been called mischievous had it not been for the fact that she was an angel; it wasn't in her nature to be mischevious, after all. That was the demon's job.

[To be continued in Book 3~]


End file.
